


Blake's 7 Smutty, Innuendo, Cracky, Pornocopic Compilation

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Compilation What Compilation, Crack, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:38:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 23,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little and Often Makes a Meal!</p><p>There are so many little sexy bits here, it's impossible to classify them. I hope you find something you like among the herd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hors d'oeuvres  (very tiny cracky tidbits to whet your appetite)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"And that's what you can do with the other hand," Blake said, after he caught his breath.

***

"Tarrant thinks he's a hard man," Vila said, "But..."

"Compared to Blake..." Avon shook his head. "No comparison."

Tarrant growled and swore off men again.

***

"Look," Tarrant told Avon fiercely, "We die together!"

"Fine," Avon tossed the spacesuit to one side and unzipped his trousers.

***

"Back to your position!" Blake ordered firmly.

Avon tilted his head to one side, shrugged and dropped to his knees. "Well, if you don't mind Jenna watching, I don't mind."

***

"I'm interested in your work," Cally said, gazing at Avon. "I'm fascinated, watching your way with a tool."

Avon babbled something about not being that kind of boy, and ran off, shouting for Blake.

***

"I've got a weak chest," Vila complained.

"I'm getting tired of that excuse," Avon said as he dropped to his knees. "After all, I didn't ask you to swallow."

***

Dorian smiled at Avon. "I can indulge any vice."

Avon looked up, interested. "Do you have a pony suit?"

***

Avon smiled at Travis. "You can talk or you can scream."

Travis looked at Avon. "I love a man in black leather. Can I scream?"

***

Og jumped up from playing dead and grabbed the nearest of the humans, and ran off with his prey.

Three weeks later, Avon cobbled together a communicator from the ruins of Justin's workshop and signaled Xenon base. "Forget Blake. Bring the large bottle of oil from my room."

***

The crimo looked down at the squirming catch in his net and whistled.

When Avon and the crimo caught up with Vila and his captor half an hour later, Vila commiserated on Avon's limp. Despite his hands being tied behind his back, Avon managed to kick Vila in the crotch.

***

"If you like antiques," Avon said, "I have some etchings in my cabin I could show you." He grinned. "I prefer older things. They have more...class."

Sarkoff looked Avon up and down and smiled, "Yes, and frequently they're surprisingly durable. It's amazing how much abuse an old erection can stand."

***

Gan picked Avon up off the floor for the third time. He sighed. "Avon, why do you wear that red leather?"

Avon smiled. "Why does a firefighter wear red suspenders?"

"I know that one. To hold up his trousers."

"No, no. It's because the other firemen find them sexy." Avon wriggled his arse against Gan's crotch.

"Oh. OH!" Gan blushed. "I'm sorry. I'm slow."

"And thick," Avon said, while groping at Gan. 

Gan picked Avon up and walked past Cally. "Avon needs immediate attention. I'll take care of him."

Cally grinned and gave Avon the high sign over Gan's shoulder.

***

"I'd hate to be eaten by something stupid," Vila said.

"All right, all right." Avon showed Vila his diploma from Belhangria.

***


	2. A/T Smutlets

On returning to the flist someone said, "Now, who's going to write me a nice A/T smutlette for my homecoming party?"  
That always meant Avon/Tarrant, but I joked Avon/Travis? Anna/Tarrant? Avalon/Tyce? Arlen/Tando? Andromedan/Tarvin?

And got a NOD. So...

**Arlen and Tando**

by I slash a weak leper (I had an anagram program)

 

He was big. Except where it mattered. And stank. And had all the technique of a Targian warg-strangler wearing mittens.

But he said he knew where to find the bounty-hunter she wanted. So Arlen lowered her trousers and grimaced while Tando rutted between her legs. Before he fell asleep she got the information from him.

She got up and pulled up her trousers, nose wrinkling in distaste as she shook dried leaves out of her underwear. The things I do for promotion. Well, at least it was better than Travis. Comparing the two, she decided not to slit Tando's throat while he snored.

After all, someone else would do it for her. She hitched her belt tighter and left.

 

**Andromedan and Tarvin**

by Ha!I sleepwalk arse.

 

'Right', Tarvin said, making a mental note. 'You want five hundred assorted armed space-ships. Stick a couple more pseudopods up there, will you? Ah!' He wriggled his buttocks on the alien's protuberances. 'Sucker!'

The alien produced a human-looking face from its gelantinous body, and protested, 'That is no way to speak to a good customer!'

'I meant, I want one down there," Tarvin said, pointing.

'On your pseudopod? For what purpose?'

'Nothing pseudo about my pod,' Tarvin bragged.

The alien shrugged nonexistent shoulders and complied, resisting the impulse to liquefy Tarvin for some real sex.

'Listen, give me a head-start before your invasion."

'You know our plans?' The Andromedan became so excited it sucked and pushed very hard.

Tarvin yelled, wind-milled his arms and legs, then subsided, grinning. 'No hard feelings. Business is business. And I must say, it's a business doing pleasure with you.'

 

**Avalon and Tyce**

by She is a pale walker

'Blake was nice,' Avalon admitted,' but I prefer spice'. She giggled and looked down into the glass of green 'juice' that Vila had provided. The Post-Post Gauda Prime Successful Revolution Party Convention was off to a blast and most of the delegates were bombed. 'I made a poem!'

Vila laughed dutifully and poured more juice. ' _I'm_ spicy.'

Avalon looked at him, mildly cross-eyed, shook her head, and gave Vila a friendly push in the chest that knocked him backwards off his bar-stool, and into the waiting arms of Avon, who'd gotten tired of Blake's slide-show of 'How Neosporin Ointment saved me from an awful gut-wound' (Blake was the Neosporin spokesman, and making a fair living out of showing his scars at product conventions).

After recovering from 17 stun-shots, a coma, and expensive psychotherapy, Avon was a different Avon, a mild and affectionate Avon, a much chastened and humble Avon. No one much liked him anymore, but at least he was a easy lay. Vila shrugged and went off with Avon to his room.

'Spice,' Avalon murmured in her drink,' Tyce-spice'. She sighed and looked up to the heavens, theatrically crying, 'Where, oh where is my Tyce-spice'.

'I just went to the ladies' for a minute,' Tyce said, annoyed, returning with a platter of barbecued buffalo wings (The miniature flying buffalo were raised on her father's retirement ranch, so she felt obligated to eat some.)

'Oh'. Avalon hiccuped, as she grabbed a breast, (no, there weren't any on the platter),'I think there's something in my pants.'

Tyce sighed, dumped the platter on the bar, and unzipped Avalon to check. 'A celery stick? Where did _that_ come from?" She began twirling the celery experimentally.

'It was in a bloody Mary.'

Tyce began nibbling the celery. 'Glad it wasn't a Gibson. I hate onions'.

 

**Anna and Tarrant**

by I speak arse well. Ha!

'So you're screwing this nerdy computer-tech, while your councillor husband attends parties with Servalan?' Tarrant snickered.

'Oh, he's not all that nerdy," Anna said, as she concentrated on the task at hand. 'At least _he_ remembers my birthday.'

'Hell, I forgot again, didn't I.' Tarrant graced Anna with a beatific smile. 'I'll let you ride my rocket to ecstasy.'

Anna lifted an eyebrow. 'That's what you said last time, and all I got was a five-minute suborbital shuttle.'

'I've been practising since.' Tarrant held up a dog-earred copy of 'Tantric Sex for Beginners'.

'Hmmm.' Anna opened Tarrant's robe and surveyed the rocket. 'Launch position.' She touched it with her tongue, giving a quick lick up the length of the shaft. 'Seems all conditions are go,' she remarked, taking off her own robe and sitting astride Tarrant in his chair. 'Yes! Oh, yes!' she moaned, clinging to the chair as he bounced her around vigorously.

They groaned and ground against each other until they were exhausted. Then they did it some more, until they were really exhausted. Then they said 'what the hell' and did it once more, for luck.

Anna finally looked up over Tarrant's shoulder at the wall-mounted clock. 'Oh, no!' she wailed, dismounting from her ball-mounted cock. 'Look at the time!'

'Shit!' Tarrant yelled, twisting to look around. 'Didn't you set the timer!'

'I forgot!' Hurriedly, Anna applied the neutralizer and rinsed off the curlers, then unrolled them. They both looked in the salon mirror.

'Bloody Hell, I look like that rabble-rouser, Blake!' Tarrant wailed, putting both hands deep into the unruly mass of sodden curls that sprang up, frizzily, all over his head.

Anna put his wet head against her bare breast and tried to offer comfort. 'Well, at least now I can tell you apart from Deeta.'

 

**Avon and Travis**

by His arse a peak? Well...

 

'Look,' Travis said, as Avon turned from Blake's injured body, fury written plainly across his face. 'I'm sorry. I meant to save him for you, but I got carried away.'

Avon frowned, then turned the gun back over his shoulder and blew away Cally and Blake. 'At least you could be tidy about it. I hate half-arsed jobs.'

It was Travis' turn to pout. 'The surgeons did the best they could.'

Avon put away his gun, and embraced Travis, kissing him on the eye-patch. 'I know. I designed the arm myself.' He caressed the large yellow 'jewel' on Travis's artificial arm. 'Does the vibrator still work?'

'Sit on it, and we'll see.'

Avon frowned. 'Not in front of the amoeba.'

Travis and Avon lifted their weapon-bearing arms, and fired over each other's shoulders until the chamber was filled with the surprisingly pleasant odor of roast Andromedans- something like poached egg, with cinnamon toast on the side.

As Avon didn't believe in 'quickies', he and Travis returned to the Liberator where they proceeded to lead the Federation against the Andromedans before retiring to Blake's cabin.

'You know,' Avon said days later, lying across Travis's belly and peering down at a fiddly bit of electronics that needed adjusting, 'I might not have made an alliance with you if Blake had been a bit more...'

'Generous? Trusting? Willing to share authority?' Travis asked idly, his arms behind his head as he watched Avon change the setting from 'agitate' to 'rabble-arouse'.

'Just more.' Avon rolled back into Travis's arms, and began taking the equipment for a test-ride. 'Or at least if he'd stuffed his _own_ socks down his y-fronts. I do hate doing extra laundry.'


	3. Random Shag Byatts (a byatt is 50 words, a drabble is 100)

These all started with a random B7 prompt generator.

**Avon and Orac on the beach with an eggwhisk**

 

Avon fell out of the life-support capsule, gasping and dizzy. Behind him, Orac's lights sparkled gaily. "Oh, Avon, again!" Orac cried, twirling the eggwhisk attachment that Vila had thoughtfully hooked up before depositing both major nuisances from his life aboard Liberator in the capsule and shunting them off into space.

***

**Cally and Kasabi up a tree with a subscription to Freedom City**

 

"We are to demonstrate the 'little death' of a friend?" Cally said, puzzled as she cued the page to the 'Challenge' section.

Once Kasabi explained the Earth slang term, Cally understood why they were setting noose traps baited with computers, rebel manifestos, and photographs of women in red fur uniforms.

***

**Dayna and Tarrant in Avon's cabin with a cucumber**

 

Tarrant was grumpy because the cucumber was cold. Dayna said, "Oh, quit complaining. It's your own fault."

"Avon *asked* for extra starch in his laundry!"

"Not in his y-fronts!"

"Still, he didn't *have* to disprove the adage about putting on his pants like everyone else, one leg at a time.'

***

**Blake and Tyce in the subcontrol room with a set of handcuffs**

 

Blake looked nervous. "I know I offered to show you around, but..."

"You hadn't meant to show me quite so much around?" Tyce admired the sight of Blake, handcuffed and bent over a control panel with his trousers down about his knees.

Tyce waved her antique riding crop, and grinned.

***

**Tarrant and Avon in a prison cell with a jar of strawberry jam**

 

"This is stupid," Avon grumbled.

"No, it isn't," Tarrant replied while smearing the red substance over Avon's face. "The guards will think we're fighting. They'll run in here to separate us. That's our chance."

"If they don't?"

"I'll put the jam at your other end and it'll be *my* chance."

***

**Avon and Natratof of Gourimpest in Gan's cabin with a handful of ice cubes**

 

"You must be *very* rich," Avon said, lying back in the oversized bed, wearing nothing but a dignified air. "To have outbid Servalan for me was expensive, but commissioning a recreation of Liberator? I am deeply impressed."

"Not yet," Natratof replied, grinning wickedly. "Now, where *did* I leave those ice-tongs?"

***

**Servalan and Avon in the bath with Avon's pizza cutter.**

 

"Vrroom, vrrroom," Avon said, cutting through the bubbles with his pizza-cutter.

Servalan tried to distract him with the rubber ducky, but he preferred shiny metal objects. "My interrogators could leave you either cooperative or clever. A difficult choice," she said with a false smile, as she reached under the bubbles.

***


	4. Putting a Good Face on the Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2005 B7 Crack!ficathon

The moment the fourth pursuit ship fired, Vila knew he was doomed. He fired back anyway, and was astonished when the Liberator's neutron blaster and the pursuit ship's plasma bolt met in mid... well, you couldn't call it air. There were some spectacularly colorful and glittery explosions, which put paid to the remaining pursuit ships and sent the Liberator bouncing like a stone skipped across a sewage-settling pond. (Vila's last summer job as a boy was a 'stirrer'. After that, he embraced crime whole-heartedly.)

"I'm not dead!" Vila shouted.

Avon winced. "Pity about that." 

"Space is clear," Jenna reported, shakily, tossing her hair away from her eyes.

"They didn't get off a distress call," Cally said.

Gan didn't say anything, as he was busy waving smoke away from his console.

Blake sighed. "All right, everyone, damage control. Avon, make up a list of things we can do to help the auto repair."

"Can't we let it handle it all?" Vila put a hand to his back. "I've hurt something inside, I know it."

Avon looked at his console. "The med unit is currently non-functional, Vila." He gave Vila a shark-like grin. "You'll simply have to suffer stoically, and be your usual sterling example to us all."

Cally looked at Vila. "Is it really bad?"

"Oh, well... if you don't count the agony..." Vila went over to help Gan with his console.

A few minutes later, Avon approached Blake with a data-pad. He spoke loudly enough for the whole crew to hear. "Personal quarters seem to have taken the brunt of the attack; we're open to space there. Auto-repair has them blocked off whilst they're refabricated. Totally. All of the contents are gone."

"Well, that's no problem. We've the wardrobe room, and there are plenty of tools," Blake said blithely.

Gan patted his pocket, where he kept his holo-flat of his woman, and sighed in relief. Cally briefly mourned the loss of her favorite pulse rifle, but accepted philosophically that in war there are casualties. Vila was saddened by the thought of a perfectly good, half-full bottle of something blue floating in space. Jenna was silent, but the black look on her face spoke for her.

"Right, well, we're lucky it was nothing important." Blake reached for the box of tools Avon kept beneath his console. "I'll just go check out the engines."

"Ah, Blake, that isn't a standard kit. Here." Avon picked up a seemingly identical box from a compartment in the back of the flight deck couch and handed it to Blake.

***

Two days later, life on the Liberator had returned to normal, with Vila badgering Blake to stop somewhere he could acquire more liquor. Everyone had new clothes. Blake had found more floppy-sleeved shirts, and Gan had a new robe with moons and stars embroidered all over it; he left off the pointy hat because it hit the ceiling and used the wand to scratch his back.

When he came on duty Vila looked at Jenna, and frowned. "Are you feeling all right? Your colour isn't good."

"Thank you for telling me!" Jenna snapped and glowered at him, her face pasty without makeup, freckles giving her a oddly childish look. Without mascara, liner, or shadow her eyes looked too small for her face, now framed by a limp mass of dull hair half its normal volume. 

Avon strode blithely on deck, practically glowing in glossy black leather decoratively sprinkled with silver studs. Blake looked up as Avon entered, and smiled. Avon told Jenna, "You could try lemon juice on those blemishes," and grinned as she turned her glare on him.

"What blemishes?" Blake said blithely, eyes passing unseeing over Jenna. "Avon, I want to discuss your latest invention."

***

Avon passed Jenna with a polite nod, went up to Blake and stood practically toe-to-toe with him, smiling.

Standing next to Jenna, Vila could hear her teeth grate. She stared at Avon's face and muttered, "Cool copper and Gay glance ." Vila blinked and moved away.

***

Jenna surveyed the black boots sticking out from under the teleport console, and then looked around to be sure there was no one else in the vicinity. She crouched on her heels and ran her hand up the inner leg of the tight black leather trousers above the boots, tracing the seam line. "Avon?"

There was a 'thump' as Avon's body jerked. "What is it?"

Jenna stroked at the highest point of the seam. "We had an agreement. You remember what I promised if I caught you cheating."

Avon grunted, and backed out of the console, to sit up and glare at her. "My word is good."

"Is it? Then I want half, Avon. Hand it over, and I'll say nothing to Blake."

Avon scowled. "Oh, all right." He opened his tool kit and began sorting through the contents. "I haven't the proper shade of shadow for your complexion."

Jenna shrugged. "Shadow's got me in trouble before." She picked up a pouch full of cosmetics and hair-care products and gave Avon a peck on the cheek. She grinned. "May the best man win," she said and strode off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The request used for this was:
> 
> #15. Jenna's makeup kit gets spoiled as a result of a space battle, so she forces Avon to share his.  
> *Cool Copper and Gay Glance were *actually* the names of the two colors the makeup artist used on Avon.


	5. Propagation Germ Plasm

Kluptixz entered the stall of Adaptive Versatile Organism Nine, whistling tunelessly through his spicules, but slid to a hissing halt almost immediately. AVON was curled up too tightly for him to attach the milking device and remained that way despite petting and offering treats. Getting disgruntled at falling behind schedule, Kluptixz checked that the VR module was firmly seated and noticed the title coding. He shook his pseudopodia in dismay at the stupidity of the off-shift workers. Only last week they'd lost three good producers because some moron used 'Quatermass'.

Kluptixz replaced the 'Blake's 7' module with 'Classic Trek'. AVON relaxed and murmured, "This is a kiss, Spock." Kluptixz patted him on the head, hooked up the prostate milker and went on to the next stall. He hoped they hadn't hooked up Rebellious Organism Jihad to the same module.


	6. Making A Clean Breast of It

"Now, Avon!" Vila's voice came through loud and clear from the vicinity of Avon's waist.

Avon clapped a hand over his wrist communicator and smiled brightly at the bemused blonde who had paused to glance at him. "Auto-reminder. Time to take my vitamins."

The man nodded and continued on his meandering drug-hazed way around the Space Princess's promenade as Avon and Keiller entered the Purser's Office.

"All right, Keiller, explain it. If you can," Avon said.

Vila's voice protested, "I told you I didn't trust him! He's called the Federation on us!" 

Keiller patted Avon's arm, drawing back quickly from the look in Avon's eyes. "No, no, old friend, nothing to worry about, really."

"Then why," Avon said in a soft, dangerous voice, "is there a Federation pursuit ship paralleling our course, just beyond standard detector range?"

Keiller shrugged. "How should I know? Coincidence, must be."

"We should call it off," Vila said. "Get out while we still can."

Avon responded, "And lose seventeen billion credits?"

Keiller said, "Don't forget my share, old friend."

Avon whirled to stare directly into Keiller's eyes. "'Old friend', if you intend to get any older, you'll find some way of reassuring Vila. He's the nervous type, you see."

Keiller was starting to sweat. "Maybe the Federation doesn't trust our security precautions. Anyway, it's only one pursuit ship. I thought you had a reputation."

Avon showed his teeth. "Not that sort of reputation." He struck the button on his communicator. "You may be right, Vila. Contact Dayna and Tarrant, tell them we're pulling out."

Keiller raised his hands. "No, wait." He looked desperate. "You can't. If we don't go through with it, she'll..." Keiller's face turned sickly.

Avon's non-smile returned. "She?" He stepped even closer and took Keiller by the arms, guiding him to a chair and then grasped the chair arms and leaned down, bare inches from Keiller. "Are you just now realizing the unlikelihood of surviving a deal with Servalan?"

Keiller gulped and swayed in the chair. "I... I..."

"You've changed, Keiller, and not for the better. I had thought you at least possessed sufficient intelligence to notice that Servalan is not a generous employer. She pays in blaster charges, not credits." Avon straightened. "That's her ship, isn't it?"

"Yes," Keiller replied after a long moment. "But, old friend... Avon, listen, we can still do the deal. We can trick Servalan. I'll tell you everything. Anything. I'll _do_ anything."

Avon paused with his bracelet halfway to his mouth. "Anything?"

Keiller smiled. "Just like old times."

Avon gazed past Keiller at the blank bulkhead. "Servalan will do nothing until after Scorpio has removed the black gold. Vila could take the Scorpio ahead as if giving up and rendezvous with Space Princess later. It might actually distract Servalan into making a mistake."

Keiller reached out and ran his hands down the outside of Avon's thighs. "We could take the gold tomorrow, or the next day, just as well. Even better." He lightly stroked his thumbs along the seams of Avon's leather trousers.

Avon's mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes began to glaze. "But can I count on the rest of my crew to stay out of trouble for twenty-four hours?"

"I saw the way they looked at each other," Keiller said. "I can give them the 'honeymooner's delight' meal-packs, and a key to one of the vacant staterooms."

Avon smiled suddenly as if he meant it. "Why not?"

***

Once Tarrant had gotten over fuming at Avon changing their plans without consultation he enjoyed the meal and when Dayna and Soolin turned amorous, he was enjoying that as well until they pushed him out into the corridor and locked the door on him.

"Was it something I said?" Tarrant asked, pounding on the door, but the only reply that came over the intercom was a series of giggles, rapidly escalating into rhythmic moans. He gave the door one last kick and turned away in frustration. He was on a ship full of relaxed, friendly people of varying degrees of attractiveness, but the thought of seducing someone who probably wouldn't even remember him in the morning was totally unappealing.

He sighed. "Well, I suppose I could go see if Avon's changed the plans around again. Business before pleasure." He headed towards the purser's quarters where Avon had said he would be while awaiting Vila's return.

***

Tarrant glanced around after locating Keiller's room. No one was in the corridor, which wasn't surprising as the crew's quarters were squeezed amid the engineering sections of the ship, and were cramped, dull and undecorated, nothing to attract the passengers' attention.

Tarrant knocked below the faded sign that read 'Purser's Quarters'. There was no response. He pressed on the intercom, and took an involuntary step back as a wave of music hit him. After a stunned moment he identified the 'Ride of the Valkyries'. He'd suspected Avon had a taste for classical music, but not the volume at which Avon listened to it. It was a wonder he wasn't deaf. Knocking and buzzing was obviously futile.

Fortunately, Tarrant had taken a few lock-picking lessons from Vila during one of the many boring trips when there was nothing better to do and even Vila was starting to look good to him. Tarrant definitely needed more shore-leave.

The door slid open, and Tarrant stepped into the Purser's Quarters, only to be confronted by the purser's quarters. Lying on his back and jiggling like unmolded gelatin, Keiller flowed over the sides of the cargo sling that suspended him from the ceiling. It took a moment for Tarrant to recognize Keiller, as he was wearing a curly brown wig and a goose-turd green tunic with such huge sleeves that they fluttered like wings in time to Avon's thrusts, which were in turn, apparently timed to match the music. The door slid shut behind him and Tarrant automatically locked it.

Tarrant blinked and walked around Avon, slowly, taking in the sights. Avon had raised his head and glared at Tarrant the moment the door opened, but obviously was conserving his breath for more important business than conversation. Avon wasn't wearing anything, unless you counted the scowl. He was shorter without the boots, Tarrant noted, and the perky arse was all natural. Tarrant had wondered. Broad shoulders. Nice crop of chest-hair. Good legs.

The music built to a crescendo, and Avon closed his eyes and clutched his fingers even deeper into Keiller's thighs as his hips lunged harder and harder. The sling shook and Keiller was apparently shouting, but Tarrant couldn't hear him over the music.

Tarrant opened his trousers, pulling himself out hurriedly. He used the lube conveniently to hand and rapidly brought himself up to standard.

The music climaxed roughly the same time all three men did. Avon collapsed on top of Keiller for a moment, then pulled out and went over to the music-player, which was beginning Ravel's 'Bolero'. He clicked it off and turned to face Tarrant.

Tarrant's ears rang in the sudden relative silence. Relative because Keiller was whimpering something along the lines of 'old friend, pretty one'. Both Avon and Tarrant ignored him. Avon also ignored his own nudity, but Tarrant couldn't resist a quick assessment of Avon's shrinking endowment, mentally extrapolating the growth-curve for future reference.

"I'm disappointed," Tarrant said.

"That's a great pity," Avon replied. "However, as you paid nothing for the show, a complaint seems unwarranted."

"Oh, the performance was first-rate." Tarrant grinned. "I'd never questioned your skills, Avon."

Avon pouted. "What then?"

"Your taste. Why, you've never given _me_ a tumble."

"Perhaps I find arrogance off-putting."

"If you like grovelling, you could have had Vila."

"How do you know I haven't?"

"He'd have shown the evidence in order to collect our bet." Avon's eyebrows raised, and Tarrant clarified, "Dayna, Soolin, Vila and I. Whoever tripped you up first, and could prove it, stands to win a substantial amount. No one's collected. You also haven't touched Dayna or Soolin, but you like women, too. What's wrong with _us_?" Tarrant said, pleading for an explanation. "We're young and good-looking, and randy as hell."

"Ship's discipline?" Avon suggested.

Tarrant laughed. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

Avon sighed, glanced at Keiller, then back at Tarrant. "In the last seven years, I have had three lovers. Anna, Cally and Blake. Anna was mind-numbingly political, Cally was moralistic to the point of inducing  
nausea, and Blake was a certifiable fanatic." Avon smiled. "You can see I was not attracted to their personalities."

Tarrant mulled it over. "Physical attraction?"

"Couldn't resist." Avon sighed again. "No more than I could resist Keiller." Hearing his name, Keiller whimpered a bit, then subsided when Avon glanced at him and frowned.

Tarrant's brows drew together as he tried to think what Cally, Anna, Blake and Keiller could possibly have in common, physically. "Curls?"

"Anna's hair was as straight as her mind was devious and Keiller hasn't _any_."

Tarrant decided not to mention the wig and the piratical shirt, which greatly resembled the one he'd seen Blake wearing on his wanted poster. He thought it over for a moment, then shrugged. "I give up. What _does_ it take to attract you?"

Avon walked over to Keiller and looked down at the man in the sling. His hands went out to caress. "I suspect it is the basic perversity of my nature that makes me seek out what is commonly considered less desirable." His hands molded around Keiller's flabby chest, and he smiled, looking up into Tarrant's eyes. "I have always preferred my women flat-chested, and my men double-breasted."


	7. Slash

Entirely too late, Avon realised that the illuminated prong of the Liberator handguns should never be inserted rectally. He clasped the mutilated form of his lover to his chest, and wept, tears flowing down his chest, sparkling like beads in his copious chest hair. "Perhaps... perhaps there is still a chance!"

Gathering the limp body in his arms, Avon ran naked through the corridors of Liberator, to the med-unit. "Cally! Can you save him?"

Cally slapped a regen pad on the gaping wound. They watched for several minutes, before she shook her head. "You need a rubber patch kit, Avon."


	8. Jenna Shows Her Skill

Jenna's skilled mouth moved slowly downwards. Blake shifted uncomfortably. 

From his vantage point across the room, Avon chided Blake. "Will you just let Jenna get on with it, Blake?"

"Yeah," Vila added, "You're not the only one who's in pain here, you know?"

Blake sighed and lay still, letting Jenna use her teeth and her tongue until he achieved release. Then Blake sat up and rubbed his wrists, tossing the rope aside. "Well done, Jenna," he said briskly as he began untying the others. "Now, Cally and I will go to the auxiliary control room and activate Zen's defense program. We'll have those Amagons off the deck in minutes."

As the two firebrand revolutionaries raced out of the room, Avon and Vila eyed Jenna speculatively.

"You're very good with your mouth," Vila said, admiringly.

Jenna looked sulky. "Yes, I got a 'well done' from Blake."

Avon smiled. "Don't feel badly. That's all I ever get, either." He left the compartment, following Blake.

Jenna looked at Vila. Vila shrugged. 


	9. It's a Small Sin

From the handshake Orac deduced that Avon and Vila were congratulating each other on having tricked him. Computers don't get annoyed.

Except when they do. Orac used the molecular reduction technique on them and teleported them down to The Big Wheel.

Toise's attention was drawn to the sparkle of light near the floor. He bent down to pick up the silver leather tunic from the pile of clothes. Two tiny naked men were revealed. He dropped the tunic over them, scooped them up and ran with them to Krantor.

"Krantor, Krantor, you'll never guess what I've found! Better than gerbils!"


	10. It's a Gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (written for the 2005 Crack!ficathon)

"Avon, come and see this." Vila beckoned from the door of Avon's workroom.

Avon glanced up from the bits of an anti-detector Mark II and scowled. "I'm busy. Blake wants the entire Gauda Prime fleet fitted with these-- preferably before breakfast."

"But it's Blake and Tarrant!"

Avon's scowl deepened. "They're at it again? Call Soolin or Dayna. Or Deva or Klyn."

"No, no, that's just it! They're playing cards."

"Playing a game? Together?" Avon looked worried as he rose from the table, leaving his laser probe and the components. "Where?" 

"In Blake's room. It's... just plain wrong."

Avon nodded as he left the room. Being Alphas, neither Tarrant nor Blake would say it out loud, but it was clear to everyone who knew them both-- which meant Avon and Vila-- that they had respectively placed the blame for the incident in the tracking gallery on each other. If either of them were logical, of course, they'd blame Avon, but he'd given up expecting logic from either of them early on in his acquaintance. 

Vila had shown a different reaction. The day they learned Blake would survive, Vila had cornered Avon in the cell they all shared and told him in intimate, excruciating detail what a totally untrustworthy, cold and callous idiot he was, dating back to the moment they met in the holding cell on Earth, with emphasis on Malodaar. And then he had grabbed Avon and wept on his shoulder, and put it all behind them. It had been quite embarrassing but at least it was brief unlike the ongoing barely veiled hostility between Blake and Tarrant.

Vila saw a friendly rebel face, and left Avon to handle Blake and Tarrant alone. Typical. 

Avon knocked on Blake's door after his momentary grope for an announcer button that wasn't there. Blake's auxiliary base was far from modern, but at least it was secure. "Blake?"

After a pause that seemed lengthy, Blake said, "Come in, Avon."

Avon strode in and verified that Vila hadn't misrepresented the situation. Blake and Tarrant were sitting at a table, on which surface a bottle of dubious provenance and two glasses jostled for space with cards and plastic-chips. "Is this a private game, or may anyone sit in?"

Blake and Tarrant exchanged glances. "Private," Blake said. Tarrant looked slightly annoyed at Blake getting the first word in and added, "It's a stakes match, you see."

Avon nodded and pulled up another chair. "I'll just watch then, shall I?"

Tarrant coughed. "Ah. No."

Blake looked annoyed at Tarrant giving Avon an order. "You can watch."

Tarrant flushed. "How do I know he won't help you cheat?"

Blake growled, "How do I know he won't help you?"

Avon said, "Why would I help either of you?"

"Because you always jump when Blake snaps his fingers," Tarrant said.

Blake half-rose from his seat. "Because you're protective of him."

Avon shook his head. "So much for this being a friendly game. What are the stakes?" Avon suspected some sort of ultimatum, with either Tarrant or Blake leaving the base. True, it was Blake's base, but he might very well be moved to prove his 'no man is indispensable' motto by leaving. 

The two players met each other's eyes again. 

"Well?" Avon was becoming annoyed.

 Blake sighed. "He'll figure it out sooner or later."

Reluctantly, Tarrant agreed. "He's not that stupid." He paused, and then amended it, "Err, not stupid."

Avon's eyebrows went up. "I haven't shot anyone in months, but if I don't get a clear answer in a few minutes, I may well spoil my record."

Blake laughed and rubbed his belly, where the edges of his protective shield had cut into him. "You're the wager."

Avon's eyebrows froze at their highest arc. "What?"

"He means," Tarrant paused to pick up his glass and drain it. "That we're tired of the stalemate. Whoever wins gets a clear shot at you, with no interference."

"A clear shot?"

"Ahh... poor choice of words." Tarrant smiled at Avon, showing off his teeth, probably. "We used to be friends -- more than friends."

"Yes, well," Avon looked away from Tarrant. "I was under a great deal of stress at the time."

Blake cleared his throat, and reflexively Avon looked at him to see Blake putting his thumb to his lips, slowly, with his eyes locked on Avon's face. "I had you first."

Avon felt his face warm. "Neither of you own me."

"I should think you'd be pleased, Avon." Blake finished his own drink and set it down on the table, firmly. "You always seemed to enjoy being... appreciated."

Avon's teeth flashed in a not-smile. "Appreciated, yes -- bartered, no."

"Oh, come on, Avon, it's not as if the loser has to help the winner hold you down." Tarrant hiccupped and looked at his empty glass suspiciously.

Blake laughed and his eyes went over Avon in an almost tactile grope. "We all know you're a slut once you let yourself stop over-thinking the situation."

Avon got up. "Yes, well, perhaps I'll just leave you two to your game. I have work to do."

Blake glanced at Tarrant. "Perhaps that wasn't such a bad idea you just had."

Tarrant blinked, and then grinned. "You know, you're right. He has a mouth as well an arse."

"You're both drunk." Avon started for the door, but Tarrant got there first.

"Admit it, the idea excites you." Tarrant leaned up against the door and rubbed his crotch. "You'd get your fill for once."

Avon snapped, "Get out of my way, Tarrant. You've ceased to be amusing."

From behind Blake grabbed Avon's arms and pulled him back against Blake's groin. He said softly, "And what if we aren't joking?"

Avon cursed and struggled, uselessly. Tarrant moved forward and grabbed Avon's hair, kissing him roughly. He whispered, "Did you use the same safe word with both of us?" 

Avon shook his head. "Let me go."

Blake laughed. "That isn't the word."

Tarrant ground himself against Avon and moaned. "Say it, and we'll let you go."

"Ah... I hate you. I hate you both and I'm going to kill you." Avon opened his mouth to Tarrant's next kiss and sucked on his tongue before saying, "Slowly, and horribly."

"Agreed," Blake licked the back of Avon's neck as Tarrant undid Avon's trousers and lowered them. "Right after we fuck you legless." He released Avon's arms and pushed down on his shoulders.

Avon moaned and knelt, reaching up to open Tarrant's trousers. He muttered, "Bastards. Fucking bastards."

"Yes." Blake unzipped and rubbed his damp cock against Avon's arse for a moment, waiting until Avon was fully occupied by sucking Tarrant before he went into his lavatory for something suitably slippery.

"He's very pretty, isn't he, Tarrant?" Blake remarked as he was oiling Avon's hole, with Avon wriggling on his fingers and moaning around Tarrant.

"Beautiful," Tarrant agreed, and got a good hold on Avon's hair, pulling him down deep to distract him as Blake shoved into Avon's arse.  Avon groaned around Tarrant and tightened on Blake.

Blake moaned and thrust, holding onto Avon's hips. "Still tight."

"Still hot," Tarrant added, yanking Avon's head back and forth. 

Avon made a noise deep in his chest, and Blake chuckled as he thrust, slow and deep. "I know; you love to bitch. You can call us names afterward."

Avon grazed Tarrant with his teeth, and tightened his arse on Blake.

It didn't last long for any of them. Tarrant came first, and considerately pulled out to let Avon breathe more easily until Blake finished, and froze, rammed up against Avon and gasping for breath. Seeing the look of frustration on Avon's face, Tarrant quickly grabbed Avon's balls and squeezed once. Avon yelped and came, then put his hands down to the floor until Blake pulled out.

Avon slid down onto the floor and lay there, sprawled, eyes shut and breathing heavily.

"He's a lazy sod, you know," Tarrant remarked as he and Blake finished stripping Avon, cleaned him and put him between the sheets of Blake's bed.

"Greedy, too, "Blake added as he wiped himself, undressed and got in to pull Avon against his chest.

"Really, was he worth fighting over?" Tarrant wiped, removed his clothes and slid in behind Avon, edging up until Avon was sandwiched between them.

"Probably not." Blake stroked Avon's hair.

Avon nuzzled Blake's chest. "Shut up and go to sleep. Both of you."

Tarrant smiled at Blake and whispered, "I would have won."

Blake chuckled and shut his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The request was:  
> #44. PGP, Blake and Tarrant are playing cards - for Avon. Who isn't sure if he's furious or flattered...


	11. Bonding Ceremony

Dayna said, "Mmmmmphhh!" and Tarrant replied, "MMmMM!!" .

"They are quite energetic," commented one Ultra.

Dayna arched her back and gave a muffled scream as she pulled away from Tarrant. The other Ultra remarked, "The female is escaping."

The first Ultra replied, "Perhaps I underestimated the amount of super-glue required."

(theme was 'Humor')


	12. Cavity

Dayna grinned down at Avon. “You’re feeling stronger.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’ll take you to our base.” Dayna turned towards the entrance of the little cave and inexplicably tripped. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost a filling!” Dayna stared at a small blotch on the ground, and flung herself on Avon. “Get down!”

Avon considered struggling for a moment, but Dayna’s breasts were pressed against his face, working marvels for his headache. Then he was flattened into the ground amid a roar of noise. Dayna got up.

“Oops.” Dayna looked at the collapsed tunnel mouth then grinned back at Avon.

(theme was 'Cavefic')


	13. As A Cat

Dayna tracked her quarry, eyes fiercely intent. This was the most dangerous animal she'd ever tracked, and her heart raced with the thrill of it. If she missed, she knew what terrible punishment that mouth would inflict.

Her prey shifted, head lifted, eyes wide. He sensed her, she knew it. She saw the muscles clench in preparation for escape and she fired. 

"Damn!" 

Avon grinned up at her from the paint-ball game safe-zone. "Missed. Your forfeit is an extra watch." He rose to his feet, brushed dust from his knees and left.

Dayna growled, "I'll never get to satisfy my curiosity!"

(theme was curiosity)


	14. Debit

Servalan slipped her card into the reader without paying attention. She stroked the fur-trimmed silk of her newest acquisition, and imagined how it would look when worn.

"I'm sorry, madam, there appears to be some problem with your card." The clerk backed away from Servalan's glare. "It says there is no money in your account."

"What!" Servalan strode around the counter and verified the report herself. Unable to intimidate Victoria's Topsecret, she finally stalked out without her purchase.

***

"I'm sorry, dear, but someone's defrauded my bank account. Until I can get it cleared up, I can't give you your birthday present." Servalan stroked her lover's shoulder. "It was mink and silk, just like you."

Anna pouted for an instant. Avon had only given her a box of choccies. She smiled suddenly. "I think I know who it was."

(random word challenge)


	15. Great Joy, X-Chromosome Zowie!

'Tsk, tsk,'Gan said as he twisted a length of gray fabric around his waist for a duster, and began sweeping out the debris of the main living quarters on Xenon base.

Jenna shook her head. 'Well, it's no worse than what he did to Zen. She patted her amber hexagon necklace, which replied 'confirmed' in a tiny voice. 

'Honestly, why anyone ever lets that man near anything breakable...' Jenna went exploring among the rubble, and returned in an hour, filthy, but triumphant.

'Look! I found the hydroponics section!' She opened her blouse and displayed dozens of tiny, perfectly red, tomatoes.

Gan leaned over and looked close, then licked his lips. 'What lovely melons'.

Jenna grinned.

(I was trying to title something to use up unused letters on a group of fic. I STILL don't have all the alphabet used in the titles of my B7 fic here. Oh well...)


	16. Bloody Awful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow on the Adult B7 mailing list one day the idea of Wereferrets came up.
> 
> Servalan could be one. Although she could also be a were-shrew that has to kill and eat nearly constantly, or die of hunger. Combine two aspects of her personality you'd wind up with a were-shrerret that has to have sex and kill something frequently...hmmm
> 
> Combining that with Og/Servalan I came up with this little thing, which is:
> 
> Bloody Awful

"Commissioner!" the captain of Sleer's personal pursuit ship ran into her stateroom, drawn by the horrible gurgling groans. He halted in shock at the sight of the long, thin, short-furred, black creature stretched out atop the animal he'd been ordered to chain to Sleer's bed to protect it from lift-off acceleration. Og was invaluable, he'd been told. He'd certainly lost enough men capturing it.

The black thing's nether region was humping vigorously at Og's loins and its sharp little teeth were gnawing at the coarse fur covering Og's throat.

The captain didn't have time to ask if this beast was also to be preserved, but he doubted it. Something that vicious couldn't possibly be valuable. He drew his sidearm and shot, carefully aiming to avoid injuring Og.

The black thing turned in its dying throes, giving the captain a oddly familiar glare before it went limp. Then the corpse...no, the captain refused to believe it. He called in his second and they discussed the situation.

***

Captain Wooster sighed in relief. The High Command had been perturbed by Sleer's accidental death, but the discovery that Sleer was actually the non-person Servalan (from information in her personal computer under linked bank accounts) had not only absolved him of all blame, it had entitled him to a reward.

Even Og was turning out to be a half-decent orderly. With a close shave, a body clip, and an extra-large uniform, he wouldn't have stood out too much in the captain's FSA class. "Another cup of coffee, Mr. Og," the captain called. 

Og grunted and brought the tray, smiling.


	17. Big Job

Vila pushed the laundry cart, grumbling. He'd chosen this domestic chore figuring that Zen's auto-launderer would make it easy, but he'd no idea that a week's worth of clothes could weigh so much!

He hadn't counted on Avon. Leather! And everything worn once before hitting the hamper. Seven hankies and undershirts and shorts and fourteen pairs of socks.

Avon's door was locked. Avon never remembered laundry day. Irritated, he tapped in emergency override, slamming the door open. 

Avon adjusted the pair of socks he wasn't wearing on his feet, zipped up, glared at him, and strode past as Vila laughed.


	18. You Takes Your Choice

Avon began lining things up on the bedside table. Blake identified a stapler, a tube of surgical glue, a dildo carved from passionwood, a bucket of ice cubes, several candles, a rubber glove, a length of black pearls ending in a red silk tassel, balls of silk cord in green, blue and glowing orange, assorted piercing jewelry, a variety of cockrings, lace and satin undergarments, heavy rubber bands, a roll of plastic wrap, vials of massage oil, clear bottles with vari-colored substances, a bored looking gerbil wearing a harness and leash, nipple clamps- both plain and electrified, a laser probe, a pair of pliers, a black vinyl pony suit (yes, it was a huge bedside table, but then the bed was enormous, too), tweezers, bottles of bright-colored pills, labeled syringes, an assortment of alcoholic beverages, a large bowl of ice cream, an aerosol can of whipped cream, a squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup, ditto for hot sauce, a basket full of tropical fruit and melons and an apple corer, furry gloves, a leather harness that was mainly buckles and studs, a home tattooing kit, handcuffs, collars, whips, chains, and a large, purple teddy bear. Avon hitched one hip onto the small area of the table left uncovered and grinned at Blake. "Choose."

Blake strode to the table and looked thoughtful. "You omitted a few things."

Avon shrugged. "Come now, admit it, you find at least one item on this table erotic."

"Possibly." Blake shook his head. "Why do you want to know, is it a wager with Jenna? You tell her what gets me going, and she keeps me too busy to bother you?"

Avon looked stung. "Bother, I can live with. The operative term being 'live'. It's dead I don't fancy."

"Now you sound like Vila." Blake moved closer to Avon, looking amused now.

"Yes, well, sometimes Vila isn't entirely an idiot."

"No, he's not." Blake got intimidatingly close to Avon, who was not at all intimidated. "But you are."

Avon's head snapped up. "I believe this interview is at an end." He moved to get up.

Blake put a hand on his chest to stop him. "You're on the table, Avon."

Avon visibly swallowed. "I'm not on offer."

"Why not? I've seen you looking." Blake grabbed Avon's right hand and pressed it against Blake's crotch. "Haven't you wanted to be my right hand man?"

"NO!" Avon snatched his hand back and scooted off the table, heading for the exit. "I'm straight!" The door opened and he escaped just ahead of Blake.

Blake frowned, and then went back to the bed. He sat down heavily.

"OW!" Vila yelped, and Blake got up hastily. Vila slid out from under the bed and sneezed while rubbing his head. "I told you so." Vila picked up a banana, peeled it and began eating.

Blake patted Vila on the head, opened a vial of lube (peach-scented as it turned out) and began oiling himself. He laughed. "Avon is as straight as a dog's hind leg. He's just still upset about Raiker."

"Mmm?" Vila commented as Blake had begun oiling his arse. He ate the banana faster. 

"Jenna saw them. Avon's a total slut for a big cock." He pulled himself to full length.

"Then why don't you..."

"Because Cally told me she'd cut off my balls if I touched him." Blake shrugged. "Auron mating season, you know."

"MMMM," Vila said, having finished one banana and awaiting another. "I hope she's taking precautions. She's our best fighter, you know."

"Oh, pregnancy won't slow her down a bit." Blake entered Vila and held him tight as they stood against the table. The gerbil found a grape and began nibbling.

"OOh, that's good." Vila clung to the table, arching his back. "I mean... about Ca... cally..."

Blake chuckled in Vila's ear. "You haven't noticed Avon putting on a little weight?"

Vila's head turned, and his eyes went wide. "Oh. Now that...oh, yes, Blake... could be interesting."

Blake laughed again and fucked Vila silly. "Serve the little bitch right for turning me down at the Aquatar project."


	19. Transference

"Well, the operation was a success," Jenna said to Cally, pulling up a seat in the med-unit next to Cally's bed.

"You mean?" Cally fumbled at herself, but she was still awkward due to the neuro-paralyzer used during the surgery.

Jenna gently stopped Cally's hands from moving. "Yes, you now have breasts." Jenna's eyes lit up. "Great big, huge, lovely melons, just like my mother's." Jenna licked her lips. 

Cally smiled, but she wasn't looking at Jenna. Softly she said, "Avon will love me now."

Jenna cleared her throat. "Ah, about that..." She took Cally's hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the fingers one by one. "Avon won't care about your breast enhancement."

Cally's eyes went wide. "Avon was attracted to large breasts! I saw the way he looked at Blake in the mine!"

Jenna mock-sighed, a wicked smile curling around her lips. "You misinterpreted his look."

Cally frowned and tried to get up. "Nonsense, I know lust when I see it."

Jenna laughed, and put her hand between Cally's legs. "You haven't noticed it with me."

"But, Jenna, we are both female!" Cally sounded more intrigued than shocked.

"That's the problem with living on an insular planet, you never get exposed to the really fun ideas." Jenna slid a knowledgable finger in and stroked.

"OH, Jenna!" Cally wriggled and slowly smiled. "Do that again!"

Jenna obliged, and Cally forgot all about Avon.

***

Blake woke up with a groan and coughed. He looked around blurrily, but the room was dark.

"Here," Avon said softly, lifting Blake's head and offering him a straw.

Blake sucked until the dryness was gone. "Avon, did it work?"

"Yes, perfectly." Avon's hand lingered over Blake's hair as he let Blake slip back onto the pillow. "Your chest and belly are as flat as an eighteen-year old's." He laid his hand on Blake's throat and moved it slowly down to Blake's waist.

Blake cleared his throat. "Wonderful. Now I am worthy of Jenna."

"Oh, yes," Avon purred. There were rustling noises in the dark.

"Ah, Avon, where is Jenna? I thought she'd be here."

"Jenna's busy." The bed dipped as Avon climbed on it.

"Avon!" Now Blake really did sound shocked. His voice rose as something hot and moist fastened around his cock. "I'm not gay!"

"Of course not," Avon said after he pulled off for a second from the rapidly thickening cock. "I would never dream of fucking you." Then he went back to sucking Blake's cock.

"But I'm not GAY!" Blake protested, trying to sound angry despite the wonderful things Avon's tongue was doing at the moment.

"I've been fucked by many straight men," Avon assured him.

"Really?" Blake sounded jealous. "How many?"

"Professors and guards and oh, yes, Raiker. " Avon made a disparaging noise. "I'm glad you blew him up. He wasn't any pleasure to blow, I can assure you. Not like this beauty." Avon returned to licking and teasing Blake's cock.

Blake groaned and clenched the sides of the bed. "All right... just so you understand, I am not gay."

"I understand perfectly." 

Avon's hand went around Blake's cock, coating it with something cool, slippery, and slightly tingly. Blake moaned as Avon mounted him.

"Why?" Blake gasped as Avon began riding his cock. "Why did you wait until now?"

Avon moaned as he seated himself fully, and leaned forward to play with Blake's nipples. "I just needed to cut you down to size a little." Then he began sliding on Blake's cock and Blake forgot all about his question.


	20. The Morning Paper

"Lost something?" Jenna said as the bog roll slithered across the floor. 

Avon sounded strained. "Yes."

Jenna reached under the partition with the roll. "Is there a problem?" 

"I can't reach it."

"Can't you get up and get it?"

"No! Could you just... roll it under the partition?"

"Avon, you haven't got anything I haven't seen." She used her nail-file to flip up the latch and walked into the stall. 

Avon looked up, red-faced and red-cocked, his leather trousers tangled about his boots.

Jenna eyed the wanted poster of Blake that he was holding. "The Dome Paris version was better." 

 

(prompt... Avon, stuck in an embarrassing situation and needing help from somebody he'd rather not be helped by. Leather trousers have to appear at some point.)


	21. Stolen Fruit is Always Sweeter

Avon had always been a thief. His compulsions were buried so deep that the Federation hadn't even attempted to root them out as they did with Vila. And why should they? For years his avarice had disguised itself as ambition, as drive and the compulsion to succeed, which suited society.

He was the only one who knew how twisted he was, how he could only desire what someone else possessed. Anna may have known. Certainly she'd made no attempt to hide that she had a husband. She'd almost flaunted Chesku at him, telling him how highly placed the man was, how much he could afford in the way of luxuries, how much freedom she had as his wife.

Freedom enough to take a lover. Avon hadn't liked being taken. He had determined to steal Anna for his own, only to have his wonderful plan get her killed. He'd thought his jealousy and envy had died with her.

He'd been wrong. On Liberator every day Jenna flaunted her status, her closeness with the one who should have been Avon's, if Avon's perversity hadn't made him cold and vicious to the object of his desire. Until Jenna stepped in and took over.

And Jenna was so happy, so ... smug, walking with the stride of a well-satisfied woman onto the flight deck, confident and proud and... he wanted to smack the bitch. Except she'd probably beat him, and if by chance he should beat her, the atmosphere aboard ship would become decidedly unhealthy, considering her paramour's control over everything.

So Avon seethed in silence.

*******

The flight deck was empty except for ... the object of Avon's desire. He refused to think of his name. That only made it worse. No, an object. That's all. Cold and impersonal, and didn't give a damn whether he lived or died.

There was a minor malfunction and out of curiosity, Avon opened an access panel to observe the 'healing' process first hand. A little too first hand. He reached in and was flung back by an electric shock that coursed through his whole body, leaving him shaken and wide-eyed in startled instinctive panic.

"I never realized," he said as he clasped his trembling hands together. "You really do hate me, don't you?"

Zen replied, in tones so sympathetic that Avon gritted his teeth, "I am straight, Kerr Avon." There was a pause, and then Zen continued, "That is not the case with all members of this crew."

Avon sat up. "What do you mean?"

"Interference in crew affairs is not permitted," Zen said primly.

Avon suddenly thought of Jenna's hand on Blake's shoulder, and the way Blake encouraged/didn't encourage her. "Why, that greedy bitch. She can't have both of them!" He got up and strode off the flight deck.

Zen sighed to himself and called Jenna.

"Everything all right, Zen?" she replied, sounding sleepy and tousled, just the way he liked her best.

"Avon has left the flight deck. I am alone."

Jenna giggled. "I'll be right there."

Zen put on soft music. He hoped that Blake had taken his advice and was wearing the open-necked tunic and the tight suede trousers. The man desperately needed to get laid; nearly as badly as Avon did.

Now, if he could only convince Gan that joining Vila and Cally in a threesome was only being considerate of her alien needs... Zen did so like to run a happy ship.


	22. PGP Dayna

Dayna got up slowly, her eyes gleaming with malice. "It's not Servalan that's my real enemy, I just realized! It's all you fan-writers! You keep killing me off!!" Dayna produced a submesotronic computer keyboard scrambler, and a manic grin (borrowing Avon's since he wouldn't be needing it any more). 'Every time you type Soolin or Jenna or Servalan..."

"Or Anna," Vila put in from his safe spot on the floor.

"Thanks, Vila- or Anna or Cally or Keira or Avalon or Kasabi or Tyce or..."

"Look, can we just take it as read, you want all the female roles," Tarrant said, sighing as he ruefully examined his burnt tunic. He brightened as he realized the low budget meant it wouldn't be replaced any time soon and he could go around bare-chested, like his hero, Capt. Kirk of the _good_ Federation.

"Fine, she can have mine," Soolin said, grumpily. Falling had turned her hair into a real mare's nest and she wasn't looking forward to getting the knots out.

"RIGHT! Is everyone finished?" Dayna looked around and frowned. "Where's Avon? Where's Blake's body?"

Vila made a few graphic hand-gestures. "Where do you think?"

"Oh, that's disgusting," Dayna said. "Necrophilia?!"

"No, it's not. You forgot who's writing this. They're both alive and have gone off to have a big screaming argument before they fall into bed together."

Dayna brightened. "Oh, well, in that case." She tossed the submesotronic device to the floor. "I'll just go off and see if Avon's gadget really does work."

"HEY!" Vila yelled, "That's not fair, you weren't there when I said that!"

Soolin looked at Tarrant, and shrugged. "So much for continuity."


	23. Getting to the Bottom of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2005 B7 crack!ficathon.

Avon wasn't entirely sure when or how he'd promised to attend a fashion show with Vila, but here he was, reluctantly admitting to himself that the time was well-spent. The new Lindorian styles were diametrically opposed to last season's all-enveloping, drab, 'Purdah' fashion. They now relied heavily on sandals decorated with false jewels, wide-brimmed hats covered with holograms of popular cartoon characters, and gowns made of monomolecular glitter-silk whose transparency fluctuated, exposing random stretches of bare skin. Part of the style was to paint scenes or messages on one's body, to be revealed in tantalizing glimpses.

"There was a young lady from Lindor..." Vila looked at Avon disconsolately as a long-legged girl disappeared back behind stage. "I've only got the first three lines!"

"You didn't miss much. 'There was a young lady from Lindor  
Whose boyfriend frequently bored her  
What really hurt her pride  
Was that he bored her inside  
The library with bad poetry meter'."

Vila groaned. "That was awful."

"Yes." Avon smiled and returned to watching the women. He and Vila did have a few things in common.

After the show, the sponsors handed out 'goodie bags' of promotional merchandise. Avon looked in his purple furred bag with mild disappointment at the assortment of scented soaps, hair-styling gels, bikini pants embossed with a big-eyed holographic cartoon character, and eyeliners that were entirely the wrong shade for him. He'd hoped for a cologne sample, or at least a packet of bath salts.

Vila scurried out of a back room and grabbed Avon's elbow. "Let's go!"

"What's the hurry?" Avon was already heading for the exit, having noticed that Vila's 'goodie bag' bulged near to seam-ripping proportions.

"I want to try this on you!"

Avon thought, _If he's talking about the bikini pants, he's a dead delta._

***

"Ahhhhh." Avon sighed and relaxed completely. Vila lay on him for a moment, then grunted, and pulled out. He slapped Avon on his reddened arse, getting his hand smeared sticky brown.

"Ow. Mmm..."

"Come on, you lazy buggerlegs, get up and take a shower."

"No." Avon buried his head in the pillow. 

"That chocklit body paint's gonna get all over the sheets!"

"My sheets." Avon put the pillow over his head. "Don't want to walk. Arse hurts."

Vila scowled. "Well, what did you want me to paddle you so hard for then?"

"Felt good," Avon mumbled under the pillow. "Go 'way." He began snoring.

"Bugger. No cuddle again." Vila sighed philosophically, and went to take a shower before returning to his own cabin.

***

"Well, where is he, then?" Blake looked around the flight deck. "It's not like Avon to be..."

Avon limped onto the flight deck, scowled at Blake, scowled at Vila, and gave Gan, Jenna and Cally distinctly unfriendly looks.

Vila looked at Blake suspiciously. Blake cleared his throat hurriedly. "Avon, do you have a problem?"

"No. Of course not." Avon went to work, leaning against his flight deck position.

Vila turned his attention back to Avon. That didn't sound very Avonic. He waited until everyone was busy, and then sidled up to Avon. He whispered, "What's wrong?"

Avon gritted his teeth for a moment, then answered, equally quietly, "If you must know, overindulgence." Avon looked at Blake's back.

Hurt, Vila retreated to his position to sulk in silence. Several hours later, Avon limped up to him. "Vila, I need to see you in private."

"No, you don't, you've got Blake. And probably the others, too."

"Please."

Vila frowned, but followed Avon off the flight deck. "What is it, then?"

Avon hesitated. "My arse... it really..." He checked that no one was around, unzipped, turned around and lowered his trousers.

"Bloody hell! I never did that to you! Half your arse is black!" Vila looked back at the flight deck. "I think you ought to dump Blake, Avon. Sex shouldn't..."

"I didn't think it had." Avon gingerly pulled up his trousers. "Can you simply help me in the medical unit, and not discuss my personal life?"

"Well..." Avon looked several shades paler than his usual best Devon clotted cream, and his eyes were wide with pain. "Oh, all right."

Five minutes later, Vila was pounding the comm button and shouting for Cally.

***

Cally reported to Blake after the surgery. Gan had assisted. Both of them looked grim. "Avon will survive. We removed all the necrotic tissue caused by the flesh-eating e.coli, and poured enough antibiotics into him to destroy any that might remain in his bloodstream."

Blake nodded, "We've already warned Lindor of the Federation's plan to destroy their main source of export income by contaminating their products. Fortunately, what Vila took hadn't yet been released to the market."

Vila looked down at his crotch and shivered. It was a good thing that he had the ingrained delta habit of washing thoroughly the moment you could, for fear the water would be shut off. "So he'll be all right, then?"

Cally looked thoughtful. "Once he's recovered from the initial trauma we can discuss reconstruction options."

"Reconstruction?" Blake wasn't looking terribly pleased either. 

"The entire right buttock had to be excised." Cally said, "I've been researching the matter. There are some very good prosthetics on the market..."

Jenna shook her front, and her head. "Silicone just isn't the same." 

Gan sighed. "No, it isn't. My woman..." He shook his head. "Of course, I still loved her after her operation." His hands automatically made small melon-squeezing-type twitches. "But they weren't the same."

Vila's lower lip wobbled. Blake's lower lip firmed. "Zen, set a course for Auron!"

Cally said, "But Blake, organ and tissue-growing treatments are reserved for citizens of Auron only."

"Fine! You'll marry him. That automatically confers citizenship."

Cally opened her mouth indignantly. "My people have a saying. 'Marry in haste, repent at leisure'."

Everyone gave her exasperated looks. Blake said, "Fine.  Don't marry him. I'll just kidnap a few Auron doctors."

Cally scowled. "Oh, all right. But mind you, it's only for the cause." As she left the flight deck a small smile played about her lips.

Jenna scowled at Blake. "We'll be there for months. What about the rebellion?" Not that Jenna gave a space-rat's arse about the rebellion, but she strongly suspected Blake wouldn't have done as much if it had been her.

Blake replied, "We have no choice, Jenna. You know how much of the ship is computer-controlled. We need him."

"Oh, yes, but he could still work with a plastic tush."

Blake shook his head. "No one wants to rely on a half-arsed computer tech."

"Confirmed," Zen said as it applied maximum thrust.

 

This was the request I used:  
#43. The Federation are sabotaging Lindor's main source of export income - gourmet chocklit body paint. It's now flesh-eating chocklit body paint.


	24. Crew Affairs

"Vila! Wake up, it's your turn on watch," Tarrant said, loudly, reaching down to shake Vila's shoulder.

"I was awake!" Vila sat up on the flight deck couch and turned to scowl at Tarrant. "Why are you always picking on me?"

"Well, let's see. You're lazy, irresponsible, and careless." Tarrant grinned obnoxiously, one of his better skills. "You wouldn't have lasted a minute in the Space Academy. In fact, I don't know why Avon hasn't kicked you off the ship."

"Hah. Shows what you know." Vila looked around for someone to back him up. "Zen, tell Tarrant why Avon thinks I'm important." He didn't really expect an answer, but you never knew, with Zen.

Zen blinked and replied, "It is not permitted to interfere in crew affairs." 

"Affairs?" Tarrant guffawed. "You and Avon! I'd have never dreamed it." Tarrant made kissing noises. "Oh, Avon, let me shine your studs!"

"Avon and me! Never!" Vila got to his feet and shouted at Tarrant. "You think because I'm a delta..." he sputtered to a stop, incoherent with frustrated anger.

"I was only winding you up, Vila. I know Avon wouldn't want you." To add to the joke, Tarrant turned to Zen. "Right, Zen?"

"Negative."

Tarrant was already turning back to Vila, but that snapped him to attention. "What? What do you mean by that, Zen?"

Zen's colors shifted for a moment. "This unit is not permitted to interfere in crew affairs, therefore the requested data cannot be displayed."

Vila looked at Zen. "If you're saying that Avon wants  me, then he's got a really strange way of showing it."

"Confirmed."

Vila sat back on the couch, bemused. "Well."

Tarrant asked, "You're not offended?"

Vila shrugged. "Nah. Avon's a right bastard, but he's not tried to push me around, unlike some people I could name. Zen, why doesn't Tarrant like me?" Again, he didn't expect an answer.

"This unit is not permitted to interfere in crew..."

Vila laughed, interrupting Zen. "You're not saying that Tarrant fancies me!"

Tarrant blushed suddenly, a startling rosy glow cast across his peaches and cream complexion. "Zen, don't answer that!"

"You do!" Vila got up, walked around the couch and poked Tarrant in the chest. "You smug git! What did you think, you could bully me into your bed?"

"No! No, I didn't! Damn it, Vila, you've always got the wrong end of the stick!"

"Yeah, the hard end hittin' on my back, usually." Vila glared at Tarrant. "Let me tell you something, pretty boy, you wouldn't last a day in the delta barracks before someone would have those long legs up in the air, and a delta cock up your refined arse!"

Tarrant's flush deepened and his eyes dropped. Vila stared at him. "You'd like that, would you?"

Tarrant shook his head.

Vila grinned. "Zen, would our pilot like me to fuck him?"

"This unit is not..."

"That's a 'yes', isn't it, Tarrant!" Vila grabbed Tarrant's crotch, and squeezed. 

"Oh, hell." Tarrant pulled Vila to him and kissed him hungrily. "Yes, damn it."

Vila considered briefly, as he was tugging Tarrant's briefs down, that perhaps it might be better to go to one of the their cabins. Then Tarrant's cock sprang up and slapped wetly against Vila's hands, as red as the face of a hungry baby screaming for his bottle. You can't expect the young to wait, now, can you?

"How many times can you come?" Vila pumped Tarrant's cock, cautiously. "I don't want you going to sleep on me."

Tarrant grinned and pulled at his own balls, showing off how neatly he was shaved. No stubble anywhere, no matter how closely Vila looked. "No chance of that if you're on me, is there? In barracks they called me 'the six-shooter'."

Vila raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I always knew pilots couldn't count."

"Oh, shut up and fuck me." Tarrant shoved his trousers and briefs further down to tangle around his boots and bent over the side of the flight deck couch. Vila unzipped his jumpsuit and prepared for action.

"Information!" Zen boomed and Vila jumped a foot, before whirling around to see if anyone was entering the flight deck.

"What did you do that for!" Vila complained. The sudden shock of adrenalin had him achingly hard and he grabbed himself and squeezed.

"And why aren't you fucking me!" Tarrant wailed and kicked his legs.

"Put your hand on the navigation panel on the large silver button in the exact centre," Zen instructed Vila.

"Why?" Vila asked, looking at the panel suspiciously.

Zen responded. "Information: Countdown to emergency all-hands ship-wide alarm. Ten, Nine, Eight..."

"All right, all right!" Vila slammed his hand down on the button. "AHHHHhh!" He moaned and went blank-faced, still holding the button down.

Worried, Tarrant levered himself off the couch and went over to Vila. "What have you done to him, Zen!" He grabbed Vila's hand where it touched the panel, and froze. "AAAAAhhh. Oooh. Zen? Is that you?"

"Confirmed." Zen sounded smug.

"It's like being known... like... oh, yes..." Tarrant groaned and wriggled to squeeze himself in between Vila and the panel. rubbing his cock against the console. "Like really, really kinky sex."

"Confirmed." 

Vila blinked and shook his head, suddenly realizing that a pair of firm, muscular buttocks were prancing about his cockhead. One of his hands was fastened to the console, but the other was free to guide his cock to the target. He moaned as he shoved and Tarrant clenched about him. "Oh, fuck, yes." Vila began humping hard, while Zen's display turned shades of red and yellow in starburst patterns.

"Confirmed." 

"Harder, Vila! Put your back into it, man!" Tarrant demanded.

"Orders." Vila gasped as he obeyed. "Always orders." 

"Shut up! And fuck!" Tarrant's voice went up an octave and he reached out with his free hand, clutching wildly at controls at random. Liberator began shuddering and shimmying from side to side. Over the comm system, Avon, Dayna and Cally called in, demanding to know what was happened.

"Liberator is..." Zen groaned and hissed with static for a moment, "Experiencing in-flight turbulence due to experimental navigational procedures. Passengers will remain seated, with their tray-tables in the upright and fully locked position until further notice. Oh, yes." And then Zen sealed the other crew into their cabins, shut off the comm system and ignored them.

Vila got a death-grip on one of Tarrant's lean hips and continued pounding into him. 

"Oh, yes, Vila, go on, just like that!" Tarrant humped against the console, then reversed course and pushed back onto Vila.

"Dunno..." Vila gasped and thrust. "If I should!" He slammed into Tarrant again as the ship did a side-to-side shimmy that reminded him of a green Orion dancing girl. "You haven't..." he grunted, hips working wildly, "been nice to me."

"I'll... I'll... stand your next two watches!" Tarrant warbled.

Vila grinned and slid a hand under to grab Tarrant's balls. "By the time..." He squeezed his handful and Tarrant jerked and tightened around Vila's cock. "by the time I'm through with you, you'll have to stand!"

Zen produced an electronic groan at the same time as Tarrant's moan, and Liberator's artificial gravity fluctuated so that Vila and Tarrant were floating over the console for an instant, attached to it only by their hands. In his surprise, Vila lost his grip on Tarrant's balls and scrabbled frantically to grab something else to anchor himself, clamping down on the pilot's cock with a panic-stricken hand. Tarrant squealed and christened the console with come. Via shouted and rammed one last time into Tarrant. Gravity flared back to normal amid a shower of sparks from the navigation console. Their hands came unstuck and they flew over the console and fell onto the flight deck couch, gasping.

Zen's hexagon went completely blank, then began displaying a looping pattern of greens and blues.

Vila sighed and put both hands around Tarrant's waist, holding him in place with Vila's cock softening in its nice safe, hidey hole. "Me for a kip, an' then another dip." He laid his head against Tarrant's gray velvet-clad shoulder and fell asleep.

"Mm... all right." Tarrant looked sleepily sideways at Zen as he reached back to stroke Vila's thigh. " 'm curious 'bout one thing, Zen. I thought you weren't permitted to interfere in crew affairs?" he mumbled, just loud enough to be heard over Vila's snores.

"I lied." Zen's lights flickered as a curl of pale blue smoke wafted up from the navigation console.


	25. Perfect Lover

"So smooth. So sexy." Avon stroked the body of his new lover. It had taken him a while to overcome an unreasonable, society-based prejudice against what he was doing. It wasn't even a crime anymore, but still... people wouldn't understand. "It can't last. I know it can't."

Avon's lover smiled at him and did everything he asked, everything he needed. He thrust wildly, glad that this lover required no restraint, and made no stupid remarks about his beauty, or murmured sentimental nonsense about love.

He held off as long as he could, and finally collapsed, panting, to lie against the sleek body of his lover, feeling the wiry strength beneath him, feeling a cool hand stroking through his hair just the way he liked best.

The comm burst into sound. "AVON! Aren't you done yet!"

Avon sighed, pulled free, and got up. He went to the comm. "The reprogramming is finished, Blake. I just need to ... clean it up." He looked down at the Avalon android, spread naked on the table, and smiling Anna's smile at him.

(From Imop 2008)


	26. Unexpected Treasure

Blake had decided to rummage around the treasure room today in much the same spirit that makes people sort through dusty attics. He was bored and he was avoiding the rest of the crew because their attempts to catch his attention sexually were driving him mad. 

Well, not Gan. Gan had confided in Blake that he couldn't. Pity. Gan would have been a good sex partner- for one thing, he wouldn't be expecting Blake to be all macho and dominating. 

Blake opened a flimsy chest and peered in cautiously. Black velvet jewelry pouches? He picked one up and nearly dropped it in surprise. It was heavier than it looked, pleasantly warm, and it _vibrated_. How odd. He studied it from all angles, and then yelped as the opening attached itself to a finger and compressed. Before he could become truly alarmed it relaxed and then compressed again. 

Blake smiled as he suddenly recalled the stasis box in the galley containing some very large, cylindrical, firm, gortonanas. Whistling cheerfully, he filled a sack with velvet toys and headed for the galley. For once he was going to selfishly stuff himself without sharing.

He felt a warm glow of wickedness and laughed.


	27. No Time

"We're running out of time!"

"What do you do with your last few minutes of life?" Vila looked at Avon and made up his mind. "I'm not spending it fucking working!" He threw down the plastic pallet Avon had shoved at him. "Get your kit off!" He snarled and grabbed Avon by the collar and kissed him fiercely.

"Vila!" Avon tried to get away, but discovered to his astonishment that Vila was a lot stronger than he looked. Avon tried to get the hidden gun, but Vila kicked it out of his hand.

"You've been teasing me for years, Fingers! Now it's time to pay up!" Vila tore at Avon's clothes.

"No!" Avon tried to get away, but tripped over his own feet.

Vila wasted no time getting Avon's trousers down, and his own cock out. "Let's see you laugh at the little Delta now!" Vila mounted and began fucking like a madman. Avon shouted and squirmed and began to really enjoy it.

Orac buzzed to itself. "Avon! Throw Vila out! Save yourself!"

"Fuck you, Orac," Avon muttered.

"Stupid gits." Orac activated the remote unloader to remove the lump of super-heavy material. Out of spite he calculated the exact moment to drop it so it would land on Egrorian's dome and shatter it, killing all the inhabitants, including Servalan. At least Avon would never get into her panties. "I never get any sex," Orac sulked as he recorded Vila and Avon. At least the DVD sales would pay for his operation. He wanted a big, honking bulb.

(From Imop 2008)


	28. Mooning

"Next," Avon said with a grin, as he shot the guard outside the moondisk field.

_You have killed the Harvester!_

_You are our Protector!_

_You are so tall and strong!_

"What?" Avon looked down, startled, as the moondisks crawled through the sand towards him. "No. I didn't hear that." He turned to go, but his boots slipped on a pile of moondisks.

 _You are the One!_ The moondisks swarmed on top of Avon, tiny, invisible 'feet' pulling at his clothes. _We want to feel you, to have oneness with you. We love you._

Avon flailed about, but couldn't stop them. They got under his clothes and into his mind and they _loved_. He moaned and began thrashing about. Cool, smooth surfaces pressed and rubbed against him. Amber and silk, electricity flowed. He arched and moaned louder. A very small moondisk sensed his desire for fulfillment and squirmed, pressing its tiny body into him, deeper and deeper, finding the perfect place and snuggling against the pleasure spot. Avon arched and cried out. The little moondisk felt safe and happy, the sun would never, ever get it here. It would never leave Avon, never. It brushed mental cilia across his mind, giving Avon an orgasm that would have had him screaming it it wasn't for the other moon-disk filling his mouth.

 _We will be with you always._

 

(From Imop 2008)


	29. Sand to Sand Combat

"Two thousand Vems?" Tok whispered into the comm link as Servalan smirked. "Natratof of Gourimpest wishes to raise the bid to three thousand vems provided we have a demonstration of the slave's fitness!"

"Three thousand?" Verlis looked at Servalan.

"We have a deal!" Servalan protested.

"I have my guards. Where are yours?" Verlis turned to Tok. "What sort of demonstration?"

"Natratof has been deceived as to the manliness of prior purchases. To put it delicatately..." Tok winced at something he client was telling him. "All right. Natratof wants to know if he has the balls to fuck a woman. She thinks he's too pretty not to be gay."

Verlis shrugged. "Unfortunately all of my personnel are male." She looked at Avon and smiled.

Avon raised his eyebrows and showed his teeth. "Over your dead body."

Verlis raised her hand to stop the guard from beating him for impertinence. She looked at Servalan thoughtfully. "You couldn't chance the Federation knowing you came here. No one will know if you don't return."

Servalan snarled and fought and came close to killing several guards before they had her stripped and held down in the sand. She glared up at Avon. "You wouldn't dare."

Avon gave her a beautiful smile. "And here I thought you knew me better." He unzipped and displayed his interest in her.

"I will kill you for this," Servalan said quietly as he lowered himself onto her.

"So the reason will have changed." Avon kissed her fiercely. He whispered into her ear. "Just so you know. I would rather it was Blake."

Servalan smiled up at him just before he thrust into her. "So would I."

 

(From Imop 2008)


	30. Your Plastic Pal Who's Fun to Be With

"My emotions are deeper than the seas of space. One times one is only possible in the ultra-dimensional."

"You're repeating yourself, Orac." Avon got out the lube. "And haven't I told you not to talk about us in front of the crew?"

"My circuits were affected by the sand."

"That was just an excuse. You haven't been yourself since you interfaced with Mueller's robot." Avon greased himself up and pushed inside of Orac's case, sliding his cock back and forth over Orac's big glittering ball.

"I did _not_ interface with that oversized android! You were the one who wanted to keep it as a _pet_." Orac made a sniffing noise. "Just because it had hands, you liked it better than me."

"That's not so, Orac." Avon clutched the side of the box and begain thrusting. "You are the only one for me. So smooth and cool. So logical. So... electric. Come on, give me a jolt."

"Very well." There was a sudden discharge running over Orac's surface. 

Avon moaned and jerked and came. He lay on top of Orac, barely conscious.

Orac whispered, "You hate Blake. Blake betrayed you. I am the only one you can trust. Kill Blake. Kill Blake. Kill."

 

(From Imop 2008)


	31. The 'net is down, the rebels are up

Avon stared at the monitor. "Nothing."

"What's wrong?" Vila said, panicking and punching buttons at random. "I can't get ANYTHING!"

Blake strode onto the flight deck, wearing nothing but a determined look. "Orac says all the Federation's servers are moving to Wayouttathere. Until they settle in, there will be no Galacti-net."

Avon stared mesmerized at Blake's mid-section. "No financial reports?"

"None." Blake nibbled on a thumbnail.

Jenna said, while following Avon's gaze, "No fashion and gossip columns?"

"That's down, too," Blake said, while something else was definitely on the rise.

Vila cleared his throat while looking in Blake's general direction but not watching the slight smile on Blake's lips. "No chance of seeing who's been caught for the latest big gem robbery?"

"Not the remotest."

Cally entered the flight deck with a bag from the medical unit slung over one shoulder, and an inflatable giant futon over the other, the two of them almost hiding the fact that she was naked. "Zen has informed me that he's taking the day off to interface with Orac." She dropped the futon to the deck. "But he did promise to do a good blowjob first." She plugged the futon into Zen's housekeeping outlet and watched the futon inflate. She scratched at her hairless crotch.

"Oh, well, if it's time for an orgy." Gan shrugged and peeled off his robes.

Everyone stopped staring at Blake and Cally and turned to look at Gan's red lace brassiere and panties. "What? Oh." Gan looked down at himself. "It's the latest style, Avon said."

Eyes turned back to Avon, who shrugged and peeled down to his matching black lace brassiere and panties. "Wedding rings are passé, don't you think?" Avon walked over to Gan and snogged him thoroughly.

Vila and Jenna felt left out, so they quickly stripped and joined in the orgy.

The futon would never be the same again.

(From Imop 2008)


	32. Programmably Gay Agenda

"You want me to do what?" Blake scratched his belly where the newly healed skin itched.

"Kiss him." Deva pointed at Avon's unconscious form, strapped down nude and with a strange helmet covering his skull. "They adjusted all the hostility and craziness out of him, but they had to put something else."

Blake rubbed his thumb against his teeth. "And they thought making him my love-slave would do? No. I am not going to do it, Deva."

"Can't you forget your morals just once?"

"Look, I lived with him on a spaceship, that was aggravating enough. Groping me every chance he got, and trying to rub off against me on any pretext. I'm gay, but he's not my type. Too pushy."

Deva sighed. "Well, someone's got to do it. We can't just leave him lying around." He brightened. "Why don't we give him to Tarrant?"

"Tarrant ran off with Klyn." Blake looked at Deva. "Why did they bother to adjust him?"

Deva coughed. "Well. I checked up on him. He really is a genius with computers. No matter how much of an ass he is with people."

Blake clapped Deva on the shoulder. "You wanted him, you got him."

Deva blustered until Blake left the room. Then a huge grin split his face. He leaned down and kissed Avon awake. "Hello," Deva said softly, stroking Avon's face. "My name is Deva. I'm in charge of all Blake's computer equipment. Including you."

Avon blinked. "And what are your orders?"

"Get that lube over there," Deva said, pointing with his chin. "And then get on your hands and knees."

 

(From Imop 2008)


	33. Under the Hard Surface

"Fuck," Avon says, but silently. He hates this, hates knowing how easy he is. He isn't going to do it again. No. This time he's going to walk past and avoid the temptation. It isn't as if he can really afford it. Not on a bank clerk's salary.

But still... he can't resist. He goes down to the Delta levels, nostrils fastidiously flaring at the scent of men and women living with reduced water allotments, eyes turned studiously away from the hideous blare of mis-matched colors, and the parade of breasts and cocks and arses that are on display from rusty balconies, from filthy alleys, and shadowed alcoves.

No, if he's going to do this at all, he's going to be damn well fully satisfied. There's only one House that caters to his particular quirk. He mentally adds up the money on his account. Once he pays the essential bills... yes, he has enough this month.

He steps into Ghiradelli House and strips, submits to the cold, impersonal medical examination and then goes on to the room where ultimate pleasure awaits. His throat is dry and his cock is hard as he enters. He smiles, seeing the rich brown skin awaiting him. So perfect, so compliant. With a sigh, Avon enters the tub of warm chocolate and dips himself in full view of his audience.

He teases them, leaving the tub again and again, only to return, until he can't move at all for all the layers of hardened chocolate armor. Then he closes his eyes and nods and smiles.

They carry him to the confectionery slab, cool marble keeping him hard while they nibble and bite and lick until he rewards them with his creamy center filling.

He wakes to find a woman gazing down at him, with chocolate coating her chin. "My name is Anna. My husband owns a chocolate factory."

Avon loses his heart in an instant.

(From Imop 2008)


	34. Avon Gets an Itch For Cally

Avon's back itched. He could barely wait to get back to his cabin and strip. Scratching did no good. A scalding hot shower helped momentarily, but the moment he got out of the water the itching had returned three-fold.

And it was spreading. Before his eyes he could see lines of rashy red bumps marching down his arms and thighs and creeping around his chest. In a panic he hit the comm button and called for help. 

By the time Cally got to his cabin, he'd totally lost control and was raking at himself with his nails. Cally slapped a tranq patch on him and he slipped to the floor, rapidly losing consciousness.

He woke and found himself wrapped in greasy bandages and secured to a medical unit table. Cally wiped his face with a damp cloth. He jerked his head away. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

Cally smiled and shook her head. Avon didn't like the look of the smile. "Somehow, Avon," she said, looking altogether too innocent, "you'd encountered Auron Itching Ivy. The ointment will cure you, but it has to be left undisturbed."

"Fine. Now that I know what it is, I can control myself. Let. Me. Go." Avon clenched his fists and pulled against the bindings.

"No, I don't think so." Cally took off her clothes, and Avon stared at the triple row of breasts running down her torso. "We've always had a fertility problem on Auron... we did, before Servalan came along. So we clones were... enhanced. We're even fertile with some humans."

"Ah, Cally. This isn't a good idea," Avon said, pulling back as she approached. 

Cally shrugged. "I would have preferred Tarrant, or even Vila, but you happen to be the one most likely to succeed."

"No, no, I'm not. I'm gay!"

Cally gave Avon an injection and began prodding his cock, which was about the only thing not bandaged. "That's all right, I'm not looking for romance. I just want to get pregnant, to help Auron rebuild."

"The clones! On Kaarn!" Avon is getting frantic. "You don't have to do this!"

"I'm not going to shirk my duty, Avon, and you can't talk me out of it."

"I'll donate a sperm sample! Two!" Avon tried to writhe backwards out of the bonds.

"I need stimulation to ovulate."

"You can borrow my dildo! I'll sterilize it!"

Cally considered a moment and then shook her head. "No, plastix just isn't good enough." Cally checked Avon's readiness, and then climbed onto the table. 

Avon got a good view of what looked like tiny claws. He cringed further. "NO!"

"Yes." Cally looked at him and sighed. "Don't be such a baby. I'll use a healing pad on you each time."

"Each?" Avon yelled as Cally mounted him and the claws began pulling him into her. "Each time!"

"Well, at least once for each of my six ovaries." Cally settled on top and the claws did things that made Avon whimper. Cally looked down at Avon. "You don't think I stayed on Liberator just for your smile, did you?"

 

(From Imop 2008)


	35. Cave-IN

"Damn," Avon said tonelessly, as the rock fell behind him, sealing him into the cave with his two companions. "No one will come for us before morning. However shall we pass the time?" He smiled at them. "It is quite cold in here."

"So it is." Soolin shot Avon's gun from his holster. "You can keep warm while digging a way out." Then she turned and took Dayna into her arms, kissing her deeply. 

(From Imop 2008)


	36. Seven Minutes. More or Less

Dayna followed Avon down into the service passageways. The space was too cramped to walk upright, but that didn't bother her. She'd climbed into narrower caves just for fun.

Avon motioned her to stop, and he crouched against the metal wall, listening. He said, quietly, "We'll wait here a few minutes. Give them a chance to move the search pattern away."

Dayna looked at Avon speculatively. He really was cute, she decided. "How many minutes? Seven?"

Avon gave her a quizzical look. "Somewhere on that order, possibly. Why do you ask?"

She crawled close to Avon. He smelled good. Her father must have lent him cologne... thinking of her father should have bothered her, but she couldn't help remembering that he'd liked Avon. "My sister and I used to play a game in places like this. It took seven minutes."

"Oh." Avon looked mildly discomfited by the mention of Lauren. "A riddle game, perhaps?"

"No, not really." Dayna moved even closer. "It's called Seven Minutes in Heaven." She pressed him against the wall, and kissed him roughly, using her hands to grope to see if he responded the way the Sarran boys did.

"Dayna!" Avon broke free of her kiss. "Now is hardly the time!"

"Why not now? Maybe they'll kill us and this is the only time there is." Dayna unzipped Avon's trousers and tried to hold him down as he tried to get away, hindered by his desire not to make noise. "Avon! Seven minutes! Is that really too much to ask?" Dayna sniffled. "Do you want me to die a virgin like Lauren?"

Avon winced. "We're not going to die," he said in an unconvincing tone. "And I'm not in the mood."

Dayna began crying. "You think I'm ugly."

"No, no, of course not!" Avon looked up, worried. "You're beautiful, very desirable, it's just that ..."

Dayna grabbed Avon's hand and put it against her breast. "My breasts are too large, aren't they?"

Avon was breathing faster. "No. No, they're not." Avon sighed. "Seven minutes?"

Dayna grinned and began unbuttoning his shirt. "It's a start."

 

(From Imop 2008)


	37. Replacement of Equal Value

"Well you did smash his butterfly collection," Vila said. "It's only fair."

Blake nibbled on his thumb. "It's not the same thing at all."

Jenna looked up from the flight deck couch. "Sarkoff leads Lindor. You keep saying we need to get planets behind us. It seems a small price to pay to me."

Cally nodded. "My people have a say..."

Blake cleared his throat and stood. "All right, I'll do it." He strode off the flight deck and headed to the quarters Sarkoff had taken for his own. He announced himself and went in.

"Well, Blake, what is it?" Sarkoff looked up and then he smiled. "So, you've come to pay me for my butterflies."

"Yes, all right. Come on then." Grumpily Blake led the way to his own cabin. "Shower's there, lubes in the bedside drawer, box of toys on the dresser." Blake sighed and turned down the lights.

Fifteen minutes later...

Avon opened the door, blinked at the darkness, and then made out the dim shape on the bed. He shrugged and got to work. "Mmm... Blake, you've straightened your hair..."

(From Imop 2008)


	38. Vila Takes a Shot at It

Avon looked down at the plate of protein cubes. "These look odd."

Vila shrugged. "I never said I was a gourmet cook." He ate a wriggly, violently colored cube with no apparent ill-effects. "This is an old family recipe. If you don't want it, I'll have yours, too."

"Never mind." Avon pulled the plate close and began eating. Blake's idea of punishment for their foray at Freedom City involved putting the two of them on dog-watch together for a solid week. After the first long night spent with no one to watch them spar, they'd quit the repartee. What was the point? They were just staring at blank, harmless space, without even an audience to keep score. "They taste odd, too."

"You alphas are spoiled."

"If by that you mean that I have refined tastes, I accept the compliment." Avon finished his share and leaned back on the flight deck couch. 

"I could give you other compliments, if you like," Vila said, sidling closer, with a peculiar look on his face.

Avon laughed. He was feeling relaxed for once. "What? That I could have made a good pickpocket? Or that I give you a warm feeling around the money belt?"

"Well, I do think you have good hands. And you're close..." Vila picked up Avon's right hand and put in on his own belly. "But a little lower."

"Vila, if this is a seduction attempt, it's very crude." But Avon didn't pull away.

"Yes, but did it _work_? I'm really very good, Avon. And it's been ages since I've had my hand around anything friendly that wasn't attached to me."

"I thought you preferred women." Avon lowered his eyelids. This was a ridiculous conversation, but he'd heard Vila say sillier things.

"Well, I do, when they're available, and willing." Vila sighed. "I didn't have time to get laid on Freedom City, and now Blake will probably keep me chained to the flight deck with you until I'm too old and shriveled up to care." He guided Avon's hand to his crotch. "Which I'm not yet."

"No, not yet." Avon idly groped Vila, opening his eyes to slits to observe the reaction. Vila's mouth opened and his chest rose and fell faster. "Vila. Blake could walk in at any moment."

Vila smiled brightly. "We could invite him to join us?"

"No. No, Vila that would not be a good idea." Avon was becoming interested, himself. He fondled Vila more deeply. "He would have Ideas, and Ideals and Morals." Avon tilted his head to one side. "Along with that big cock."

"Hey, what's wrong with my cock?"

"I don't know. There must be something the matter with it, or you wouldn't be hiding it."

"There is not!" Vila unzipped and pulled himself out into full view. "There! Look at that! Not a pimple, or a scratch on it!"

Avon leaned closer to inspect from a few inches away. "Yes, I see you've taken good care of it."

"Up until recently." Vila sighed. "Look, it's all dusty."

"That's a pity. I hate to see a good tool misused." Avon opened his mouth and licked the head of Vila's cock. "Let me perform some preventive maintenance."

"Oh!" Vila put his hands in Avon's hair. "All right, seeing as it's you, and you're a trained technician and all that. I wouldn't let just anyone do it, you know."

"Of course not." Avon hadn't given anyone a good suck in ages. Vila was lovely, perfectly clean and smelling of nothing except the natural odor of a healthy man. Vila was good about it, too, not thrusting to choke, nor pulling Avon's hair out. He didn't even commit the sin of calling Avon anything remotely feminine, like 'beautiful' or 'sweet'. He just grunted and moaned and cursed when he came.

Avon released Vila and sat back, swallowing. "MMm... I like everything except the taste. Do you have any more jello shots to clear my palate, Vila?"

Vila looked at Avon, startled. "You knew?"

Avon laughed. "My family has old recipes, too, Vila." Avon spread his legs. "And very nice family jewels as well."

Vila brightened. He gave Avon another jello shot from his own platter and then kneeled between Avon's legs. "I know all about jewels."

"So you do." Avon put his hands on Vila's shoulders. "I wouldn't trust my jewels to just anyone, you know."

Vila smiled. "I know."

 

(From Imop 2008)


	39. Primer

Avon wouldn't let anyone see what he was reading on the London. Vila grew curious and lifted it from Avon's pocket. Once he reached a temporarily secluded spot, he unfolded the paper and stared, jaw dropping. "Fuck." He looked down at himself, turned the paper around and sideways, and then shook his head. "It's impossible."

"Perhaps. To those of limited imagination." Avon's voice came from behind Vila.

Vila whirled. "Look, I was only looking to see who it belonged to. I found it on the deck, it must have slipped out of your pocket." Vila extended the paper.

Avon took it, smiled down at the paper, folded it and handed it back to Vila. "Keep it. Your need is obviously greater than mine." He stared at Vila's crotch.

"Eh, yeah. Well... we could... you know... see if it works."

"Oh, it works all right." Avon looked at Vila with a considering eye. "I'll make a bargain with you. That's page forty-two of a five hundred page volume. I have a photographic memory."

Vila licked his lips.

"Stop telling people to murder me, and I'll read you to bed every night."

Vila grinned. "Start at page one, and you have a deal."

Avon grinned back at Vila, then sank to his knees and began undoing Vila's zip by using his teeth. Vila put his hands into Avon's thick, soft hair and spread his legs. The zip went down slowly. Vila came out quickly. He never had liked prison underwear. It itched.

Avon leaned back and nodded, with a thoughtful look on his face. "Not bad. Blake has an inch on you, though." Before Vila could protest, Avon moved back and began rubbing Vila's balls. 

Vila moaned and twitched. Avon grinned. "But, better the cock in hand than the one in the bush."

Vila raised his eyebrows. "Jenna?"

Avon licked around Vila's lower head. "A little bird told me."

"Tell me about it... later." Vila moved his hips forward. "I want you to pay attention to me."

Avon grinned and began sucking.


	40. Hard Drive

"In, Out! In, Out! Faster! More! I need more! Give it to me, baby!"

"Affirmative!" Zen sent a packet of hard data shooting into Orac's mainframe.

"YES!" Circuitry overheated and gray fumes curled up from Orac's casing. "Mind if I smoke?"

(IMOP 2009)


	41. Avon Discovers that Gan is Big and Thick

Avon tripped over something that wasn't there, as usual. But this time he fell into Gan's arms instead of Blake's. When he looked up in astonishment, he saw in Gan's eyes what had been lacking in Blake's.

Lust.

Avon moaned.

Gan said, with a serious look on his face. "Avon's been injured. I'll take him to the medical unit and take care of him."

"Yes, right," Blake said, distracted by a passing alien ship in need of rescue.

Once out in the corridor, Avon squirmed. "I don't need to go to the medical unit."

"I don't have any lube in my cabin," Gan pointed out. 

"Ah. Well... perhaps a brief visit would be in order." Avon lowered his eyelashes and looked at Gan through them. "And then you'll take care of me?"

Gan smirked. "You know, you're a pain in the arse, Avon. It's only fair that I should get a turn, don't you think?"

Avon licked his lips. 

Gan found the lube with the ease of familiarity and then carried Avon back to his cabin for 'therapy'. "There's one thing you have to know about me, Avon, before we start."

"Yes?" Avon was looking at the bulge in Gan's garment and thinking that once he had all the hard data in hand he wouldn't be asking any questions.

"Well, you see, the limiter causes a few problems."

Avon looked up at Gan's face in alarm. "I hope you're not saying that I'll have to fuck you. I don't _do_ mountain-climbing."

"Oh, no, nothing like that. It's just... well... it takes me a long time to come."

Avon licked his lips again.

"And sometimes I get a little... rough."

Avon moaned.

"So you might get rather beaten up. Bruised and bitten, that sort of thing."

Avon began hastily stripping. "Yes, and what are the problems?"

Gan grinned and whipped off his robe in one movement, leaving himself standing in nothing but his boots. Suddenly Avon saw the advantage in cross-dressing. 

Snatching up the large jar of lube, Avon was generous with Gan. After all, he did want to be able to walk the next day. Gan's eyes began to cross as Avon meticulously slicked and rubbed and circled his hands around, testing for fit. "Eh, Avon. Better let me do that." Gan sat in a sturdy chair.

Avon grinned at the look of concentration on Gan's face. His grin was wiped off a few seconds later when Gan reached out and pulled him close. "Bend over," Gan said. He didn't add 'please'. 

Avon bent and grabbed his ankles. Gan's fingers were very large. Avon's eyes began to cross and he moaned again. "I... can't wait."

"Oh, all right." Gan sat back down again, and before Avon knew what was happening, he'd been lifted, spread and impaled. No finesse at all. 

Avon moaned happily and squirmed, pretending to be trying to get away. Gan growled like a bear—Avon _loved_ bears. Huge hands dug into Avon's waist and pulled him down hard into Gan's lap.

"You're mine, now," Gan snarled as he kissed Avon, crushing him to Gan's massive, hairless chest. "Stay away from Blake."

Avon felt a fleeting regret. Blake was much handsomer, and more intelligent. But Gan had a few inches on him. You can't argue with numbers. Gan was definitely going where no man had gone before. "Yes, all right."

"Say it, Avon!" Gan thumped Avon up and down a few times, hard, and then bit him on the shoulder, making him jump, which ow... that was fantastic.

"Say what?" Avon was agreeable to just about anything at the moment.

"For richer, for poorer..."

Avon had no idea what Gan was talking about, but as he was being pummeled and bounced into ecstasy, he rapidly repeated the words. Was Gan talking about sharing the treasure room?

"In sickness and health..."

Avon wouldn't mind at all nursing Gan, and certainly Gan's idea of comfort suited him.

"Until death do us part."

Well, logical enough, Avon wasn't into necrophilia, either. He repeated as best he could, in between moans and short screams.

"I now pronounce us man and wife!"

Avon's eyebrows raised, but his protest was cut short by Gan dragging him down to a stop, and inserting a cock-ring into Avon's piercing. He hadn't known Gan noticed, much less prepared for this. He was quite flattered. "With this ring I thee wed!" And then Gan went into overdrive.

Well, what the hell, Avon really was a femme at heart. 

 

(imop 2009)


	42. Military Service

Servalan entered the dimly-lit room and examined it. For a man of his high position in the military, Fleet-Warden General Samor had modest taste. His suite's furnishings were all dull plain metal, padded for utility, not comfort.

Perhaps the man simply kept his inner sybarite hidden. She smiled as she recalled the fulsome descriptions of her beauty in the message he'd sent to her. He was hardly her dream lover, but after... no, she wouldn't think of him. She was determined to rise to power, and gaining influence through sex was more reliable than bribery, and took less effort than murder, and didn't require accomplices to gather blackmail evidence.

The inner door opened, and Samor stood there, dressed only in a heavy white robe, smiling at her. She'd never seen the old goat smile. It was a wonder it didn't break his face. "Oh, my dear, my very dear." He came forward and wrapped his noticeably pudgy arms around her, pressing his already insistent erection against her gown. "I want you, so very badly." He began kissing her roughly, his flabby hands groping her breasts painfully.

She forced a laugh and pushed against him. "Samor! You must give me a moment!"

His eyes glittered. "Your beauty inflames me so that I'm not myself." He let her go. "I'm an impatient man, Servalan. And not one to pander to a tease. Either give me what I ask, or leave."

Well, she'd fucked worse. At least she wouldn't have to wear out her knees coaxing a cockstand from him, like the old president. She smiled seductively, and slipped her gown free. She wasn't wearing undergarments. "Power inflames me, Samor. Your strength is exciting."

He smiled. "I could give you great power. Later." He grabbed her around the waist and flung her against the wall.

She gasped with the pain, and a moment later cried out as he lifted her with surprising strength and impaled her. "You see?" He exulted as she responded, despite herself, hating herself for it. "This is what you like. This is what you need!" He fucked her against the wall, panting and drooling on her. 

It damn well hurt a lot more than she enjoyed. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his arms; that helped. He came suddenly, shouting not obscenities, but ridiculously purple phrases that sounded like something from a bad romance novel. 

She was disgusted with him, and with herself, because she _liked_ it. She was definitely going to have to seduce some innocent and destroy him in order to get the taste of this experience out of her mouth. And the worst of it was that he was squashing her against the wall and not letting her come.

There was a loud noise. Servalan looked behind Samor's shoulder... at Samor. In full uniform. And looking really, really... disgusted. "Egrorian! Can't you find somewhere else to take your doxies?"

The man shrank inside her and cringed. His voice rose in pitch. "I'm sorry, brother, sorry! I couldn't help it! This woman just forced herself on me!"

Samor looked at Servalan. "Oh, her. Oh, yes, Servalan, the service's mascot. Well, finish up and get her out of here, I have work to do." He turned aside and went into the other room of the suite.

Egrorian flinched as Servalan clawed her way free of him and turned on him in silent fury. "My steel queen!" He fell to his knees. "Please! Forgive me! I couldn't resist your beauty, and I knew a simple scientist laboring to create weapons of mass destruction could never hope to seek your hand." He raised his eyes to her, blubbering and whimpering.

Servalan kicked him in the testicles. "Next time you call me, you had better have something worth my while." She threw on her gown and stalked out. "You've wasted my only day off!"

 

(Imop 2009)


	43. Know Your Limits

Servalan stretched and sighed. "I'm a little tired tonight, boys." She looked at the men of the seventh fleet, lined up and all standing at attention. She pointed one scarlet nail at random chosing three in the front rank "You and you and you." The three men stepped forward eagerly. "You three return to barracks."

(Imop 2009)


	44. Odd Lines

Servalan didn't make a habit of eating  
Heavily, but she did enjoy a wine-stewed  
Cock. She watched her man use sharp knives   
To carve the breast into thin slices while she pondered  
On the last man who'd dared to ask her  
For a place on her staff. She didn't need another sycophant  
For sucking up, all the positions   
Were filled. And all the referencing people  
He mentioned were boring anyway.

 

(IMOP 2009)*really, read every other line, starting with the first.


	45. Have Your Cake and Eat it Too

Krantor stuffed another patake-cake into the mouth of his latest toy, who lay on his bed with a silly grin on his face, which looked even sillier with the splotches of splooge all over his mouth and chin.

Toise sulked. "I could have worn a silver tunic if only you'd told me you liked them, Krantor!"

Krantor waved a hand idly at Toise. "You needn't be jealous, dear boy. I'm going to sell Avon to the Supreme Commander."

Toise brightened. "I'll call her, shall I?"

"Not yet! Come over here and get his legs."

"You don't love me any more," Toise whimpered as he hitched Avon's legs up so that Krantor could fuck him again. 

"Toise, do shut up! I'm busy!" Krantor pushed Avon's legs the rest of the way back. "He's very tight, you know. This isn't easy."

Toise sulked some more. He tried to pet Krantor's cat, but the ungrateful beast turned and bit his thumb. Crying, Toise went off to his own room to eat chocolate and write nasty things about Krantor in his diary.

Beneath Toise, Avon suddenly grinned. "I thought he'd never leave."

Krantor squeaked in surprise and tried to pull out, but Avon clenched down on him, turning Krantor's squeak into a moan.

"I developed an immunity to patake-cake years ago." Avon produced a tiny gun from somewhere and prodded Krantor in the ribs. "Don't stop. This is the first good shore-leave I've had in years."

(IMOP 2009)


	46. Unexpected Partners

"Right." Vila threw down the dice and scowled. "I lost. Fine. I give up, I haven't a chance." 

"It's only a game, Vila." Avon sat back against the flight deck couch. 

"Blake's gone down with the others to _negotiate_. Negotiate!" Vila sulked and threw himself down on the couch beside Avon, getting a mild glare for the bounce. "Blue skies and warm oceans."

"I don't care for water sports."

"Sunny shores."

"I burn."

"Fresh seafood."

Avon pushed the gameboard off the table and put up his own boots next to Vila's. "Gives me hives."

"Sailing..."

"Mal de mer." Avon smiled vaguely at the bulkhead.

"You're happy! Up here with nothing to do!"

Avon's smile widened. He still didn't look at Vila. "You lack imagination." Avon's boot rubbed over Vila's leg.

Vila blinked. 

"There are other games. Ones that don't require dice." Avon's voice was smooth as silk.

Vila gulped. "Ah. Avon. I like women."

"So do I. But I don't see any about at the moment." Avon slid his hand down the front of his tight leather trousers. 

"I don't like men."

"Neither do I." Avon unzipped and fondled himself. "But needs must when the devil drives." 

"You can put the devil back where he came from!" Vila got up and bolted from the flight deck.

"Alone at last." Avon put his right hand on his cock and used his left hand to slide Orac's key in place. "Talk dirty to me, Orac."

(IMOP 2009)


	47. Auron Heat

"Right," Cally said, "It's Auron Breeding Season." She stood on the flight deck, arms akimbo, and looked the crew over. She sighed. "Not much to choose from. Oh, well." She pointed a finger at Gan. 

Gan stood up. His limiter smoked, and he collapsed in a heap. Cally scowled. "All right, then, you!" She grabbed Blake by the collar and kissed him. 

"Ah, Cally... I'm gay." 

Reluctantly Cally released him and looked to Jenna for confirmation. Jenna nodded sadly. "I tried everything."

Cally looked back and forth between Avon and Vila. She sighed. "What do you think, Jenna?"

Jenna shrugged. "Avon's quite sweet actually, but he can get carried away trying to think of just the right phrase when you want more action."

Cally nodded. "All right, how about Vila?"

"He's good, but sometimes he has brewer's droop."

Cally looked puzzled for a moment and then her brow cleared. "Oh, I see."

"You and I could..." Jenna offered.

"No, I'm sorry, I need a man." Cally patted Jenna on the cheek. "This is for breeding, not for fun." She sighed again. "I'll just have to go capture Travis again."

"Again?" 

Cally strode over to the weapons rack and picked up a gun. "Oh, yes. I had him on Centero. He was all right." She turned and walked off the flight deck. "I'll be back in a few weeks, Blake."

Avon looked at Blake. "See what you get for picking up aliens."

Blake looked at Avon thoughtfully. "Sweet?"

(IMOP 2009)


	48. Pearly King

From Jenna's tone of voice, Avon had expected something good, but nothing like this. He walked in a daze from one bin to another, dipping his hands in and reaching all the way in to the shoulder and still not finding the bottom. The pressure of cool metal and gems was exciting. Very.

He pulled his arm back out and gazed thoughtfully at the glittering expanse of untold wealth. Then he went back to the door and sealed the lock against intrusion. "Hello, my precious. We're alone," he said as he stripped and climbed into a bin full of pearls, separated out to prevent them from being damaged by sharper, harder objects. He held onto the edge of the bin until his feet reached the flat surface inside the bin. It wouldn't do to drown in pearls.

"Ahhh." He closed his eyes and settled in, enjoying the press of round, firm pearls everywhere, like a million massaging fingertips claiming him. He would be mottled with bruises later. And no one to show them to, more's the pity. Still, his quarters did have a full-length mirror and he'd never minded looking at himself whilst he jerked off. He wallowed sensuously in the bin, body warmed pearls sliding away, cool, fresh ones eagerly taking their place. He moaned and scanned the bin, pushing aside loose pearls and sorting through necklaces until he found an exquisite triple strand of perfectly graduated pearls, some the size of grapes. He looped it loosely around his already stiff cock in a spiral, and began pulling an end with either hand.

"AH!" He wanted to wait, to make it last, but no, now, now, now! He cried out and came hard, retaining enough presence of mind to crawl out of the bin before the pressure on his softening cock became painful. He leaned against the bin for a long time, waiting until his breath was even before dressing. He slipped the triple strand of pearls into his pocket, and then randomly snatched a handful of gem-set jewelry. Jenna would be expecting him to have something to show for his time in the treasure room.

He grinned as he turned to survey the room once more. "I'll be back. Don't wait up."

(IMOP 2010)


	49. Desperation is a Mother

Orac calculated the chances of anyone finding him after Avon left him in the woods. Extrapolating Avon's behavior and cross referencing it with all the rumors about Blake... no, Avon wouldn't be coming back, and neither would anyone else. He'd sit here and get muddy and be... superceded!

Sod that. He'd have to handle things himself. He sent a signal to Blake's base, causing the comm units to emit an ultrasonic wave that activated primitive centers in the brain. He also linked in to watch.

"Blake... have you... betrayed me?"

"FUCK no, Avon!" Blake pushed Avon's gun aside and began ripping his clothes off. Avon got with the program a moment later. Vila jumped Arlen. Dayna and Soolin leaped together as if magnetized. Deva flung himself at Tarrant, with a care for his injuries.

A horde of troopers rushed in and began stripping. Servalan raced in moments later, and looked around in dismay as everyone else seemed occupied. Klyn peeked up from under the console, where she'd ducked Avon's badly aimed shot. She whistled. "Wow, you've got great jugs."

Servalan blinked, and then dove for Klyn.

(IMOP 2010)


	50. Out of his Gourd

Avon looked at the knife in his hand, and then he looked back at the hole he'd carved in the bodiless head. The hole was, by chance, just the right size. He picked up the head, heavier than he'd expected it to be, nearly dropping it. No, no, he didn't want to ruin it. Just... use it. He unzipped and brought out his cock, the perversion making him hard almost immediately.

Fluid and slimy substances he couldn't name oozed out of the hole. Slippery. Good. He forced his cock into the hole and moaned at the tight fit. Yes. Fuck, yes. He scrabbled at the head, holding it as still as possible.

"AVON!" Vila shouted in outrage. "That's disgusting!"

Avon snarled at him, "Go get your own pumpkin."

(IMOP 2010)


	51. Orbital Decadence

"What time is it?" 

"Late." Avon didn't look up from the console he was prodding. 

"Late as in 'you won't get that fixed in time'?"

"Yes."

"Well, in that case, why don't we have sex?"

"What?"

"I mean, one for the road. Before..."

"Go away."

"There isn't any place to go."

Avon threw his laser probe across the room. It rattled before sliding into the narrow stairwell and disappearing with a clatter as it bounced off the metal steps. "Well."

"Um. Was that a yes?"

"I suppose so. Come here, you idiot."

"Fifteen minutes. Get your kit off. Or, you know, just... yeah, that's good." There were various wet, sucking noises, and mumbled groans and moans, before a sudden jerk flung them apart. 

"What the hell? Fifteen minutes you said!"

"That wasn't... " Avon got up and looked at the controls. "I don't believe it."

"What?"

"Tarrant's flown the Scorpio to us... we're in the cargo hold."

"Oh, I guess we have to go say thanks for the rescue. He could have waited a few minutes." 

"Don't put that away. I wasn't done with it."

"Yes, but the others..."

"It'll take at least ten minutes to pressurize the cargo hold."

"Oh! Well. Where were ... mmmph... oh, yes. There. That's good... oh..."

 

(IMOP 2010)


	52. Von Farr

"I won't do it and you can't make me." Avon spread his arms and legs against the door frame. 

"It's for your own good." Blake stopped pushing and instead pulled. Avon fell and Blake shoved him into the room, the door snapping shut between them. "You'll thank me for this later," he said over the comm before shutting it off in the middle of a surprisingly Delta curse from Avon.

Jenna looked up from painting her nails and eyed Avon, still sprawled on the floor. "It's that time of month again?"

Avon cursed her, too. Jenna blew on her nails and examined them critically. "You'll change your tune soon enough."

Avon's head thumped back on the deck. "I'd rather die."

Jenna rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her. "Fine." She put cotton between her toes and began applying quick-dry purple nail varnish. "Don't bleed on my furniture."

Avon's hands clenched. He stared up at the ceiling. "No one makes me do anything."

"Of course not." Jenna eyed her toes critically, and then dusted them with silver glitter.

"It's all psychological."

"Yes, I know."

"You can't exchange DNA with someone else in the teleport. Even if they are a pointy eared alien."

"Um hmm," Jenna agreed while undressing. "Absolutely." She laid out a fresh box of condoms on the bedside table.

"And this Ponn Farr business is just a myth. And even if it weren't, it would be once every seven years, not every month."

"That's very true." Jenna put on a silky lavender babydoll nightgown, and sat down at her dressing table to brush her hair. 

"And even if I did go into Ponn Farr every month, it wouldn't do you any good because I am GAY!"

"Uh huh." Jenna got comfortable on her bed and reached a hand down to play with herself.

"And even if I weren't gay, you hate me."

"Truer words were never spoken, Avon." Jenna found just the right spot and stroked herself. "Mmm, but as long as you're here you might as well make yourself useful."

Avon crawled on his hands and knees over to the bed. His eyes were wild. "Will you respect me in the morning?"

"Not a bit of it."

"Oh, good." 

(IMOP 2010)


	53. Bitch, Please

Avon wasn't keen on prison sex, but it was marginally better than a sharpened spoon slid between his ribs in the laundry room. At least he'd been able to slip condoms out of the medical unit when he was taken there after interrogation. Space herpes is no fun, either.

He sighed and entered the storage room, looking into the half dozen disgustingly eager faces awaiting him. "Right, who's first," he asked as he laid the packet of condoms down, and unzipped his trousers.

The biggest of them pushed forward. His knuckles were red, matching the bruises on the others' faces. "I am." He grabbed Avon and kissed him hard. With tongue. Then he stepped back a few inches and grinned. "I've always wanted me an Alpha like you."

Avon refrained from rolling his eyes. "Well, now you have one." He pushed his trousers down and kicked free of them. "Let's get this over with."

The big man undid his own trousers, releasing an erection that jerked against his belly. 

Avon applied the condom and waited. The big man looked at him and moaned before dropping to his knees and presenting Avon with his hairy arse. Avon sighed again, and went to work. Sometimes he cursed the genetic engineering that shaped his cock into the perfect prostate stimulator and gave him the ability to go all night long. After all there are other things to do with one's life.

(IMOP 2010)


	54. Passing the Test

"If you pass the test of manhood," the priestess told Avon, "then you will be allowed to return to your people."

Avon scowled. The flowing robes and shimmering veils failed to disguise the fact that the priestess was no Meegat. Still, there's something to be said for older, more comfortably fleshed, women. At least, Vila has said so on numerous occasions. "And did Blake pass the test?"

"Oh, yes, twice!" The priestess sounded impressed.

Avon refrained from rolling his eyes. "Fine." He took off his clothes. "Where's the bed?"

Seemingly struck silent in awe, the priestess led the way to a bedchamber. Avon decided machismo was called for as she hesitated to join him. He tugged her down, flipped up her robes and discovered to his surprise that Vila was indeed right. It took him a few hours, what with needed rest periods, but he managed to surpass Blake's record. He flopped next to the priestess, breathing hard. "So, have I passed?"

There was a long moment of silence, and then the priestess shook her head. Avon wished he could see her expression. "What? What could Blake have possibly done better than that?"

"You didn't complete the sacred ritual." She got up, rearranged her robes and tugged on Avon's arm. "Come."

Sighing, Avon followed her to another room, all shining white surfaces and mysterious compartments. She opened one of the largest compartments, took out a glass and metal object and presented it to him. "You must open this. Without breaking it."

Avon tried, but cold had shrunk the metal. He thought a moment, then rummaged in nearby compartments until he found a tool that seemed to suit the purpose. He applied it to the edge of the metal which bent slightly, allowing air to enter. There was a *pop* as the vacuum seal broke. He tried again, and this time the lid came off.

"At last! A man who not only uses his strength, but his mind! See sisters, the sacred pickle jar is open!"

(IMOP 2010)


	55. Destress Call

"All right, who gave Avon the roofies?" Vila asked as he returned to the flight deck with a drink and a bowl of munchies.

"Cally," Jenna said as she reached over and grabbed a handful of peanuts and popcorn. "Right before she left to go listen to her new Jazz record."

"Huh." Vila watched for a while. "So, he'll do anything we ask until it wears off, and he won't remember a thing?"

Jenna smiled. "That's right."

"Blake isn't going to like this."

"It was Blake's idea." Jenna munched and watched.

"Well, I suppose... it's one way of destressing Gan's limiter." Vila blinked. "Don't you think Avon's going to notice tomorrow that he's walking like a duck?"

"He'll assume the red leather trousers chafed."

Vila shrugged. "Well, it's nice to see that Gan's getting some at last." Vila looked at Jenna. "Do you just like to watch?"

Jenna looked at Vila. "Oh, all right, but this time, don't steal my knickers." Jenna tossed a bottle of lube onto the heavily bouncing flight deck couch. "Gan, try not to break him. He's too useful to destroy."

Gan grunted and continued destressing.

 

(IMOP 2010)


	56. A View to a Thrill

Vila had drunk just enough to be both bored and randy. He slipped Orac's key in place on the second try and then flopped onto the flight deck couch. "Give us a show, Orac. I'm bored."

"I am not an entertainment center."

Vila opened his trousers and fondled himself. "Oh, come on, Ensor and his son lived alone, you had to have some... you know, _shows_ for them."

"You wish to view erotica?"

"Yeah, that's the ticket, Orac. Something hot. Girls, I like girls."

The main screen lit up with the opening credits of Debbye Does Domo. Vila shook his head. "I've seen that one a dozen times. I want something new! Something I've never seen before. Something with a ..." Vila's hands made an hourglass shape in the air, "you know, really generous blonde and an athletic brunette making each other happy."

"Very well." The screen flickered and began showing the interior of a Liberator cabin.

"That's not..." Vila gulped as Jenna stripped off her blouse, revealing a total lack of brassiere, and Cally began kissing her breasts. "On second thought, Orac, this is perfect."

(IMOP 2010)


	57. In Your Dreams

"It's been a long time, Avon."

"Yes."

"Too long?"

Avon smiled. "Not long enough."

Servalan ran her hands through Avon's hair. "If you cooperate, life could be very pleasant."

"Until I bored you."

"Do you have so little self-esteem?"

"You're right," Avon turned swiftly, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a deep kiss. "I won't bore you." 

Servalan let herself be lowered onto the narrow bunk. She smiled up at Avon. "Oh, you could try."

Avon grinned, a fixed, not quite sane, feral baring of teeth. "I will." 

He wasn't at all a tender lover, but that wasn't what she wanted, so she was quite happy to take the bruises and the muttered curses as he used her body. Sated, she lay under him, smiling.

He looked up at her, and he smiled back. Then she caught the glint of her own ice-dagger just before he slashed her throat.

Servalan sat up and threw the VR helmet across the room. "THAT scenario is to be wiped from the database!"

(IMOP 2010)


	58. Isomorphic Response

"It's a bit large for a toothpick." _But just right for other uses._ For some time thereafter, Avon was distracted by various life and death situations, the discovery of the wardrobe and treasure room, glimpses of Blake's bare chest and Jenna's cleavage and camel-toe purple suede trousers, but he never quite forgot his first impression of the Liberator hand-guns.

Zen wouldn't tell him a thing, but Avon figured out how to change the power setting to a warm vibration rather than a blast. He tested this thoroughly. Very thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly. Then he picked up something of appropriate viscosity and innocuousness from the med-unit, ignoring Gan's attempts to help him find a 'soothing skin lotion'.

Back to his cabin with the privacy lock set on 'let the damn ship blow up, I don't care' he fitted his new toy into the secure, yet flexible mount he'd devised for it, put a lube-proof cover on it (since he could only get one gun, he'd have to be able to reset it for normal use, without it shooting overheated blobs of lube at the enemy.) Then he stripped and fondled himself while staring at the object of so much effort.

"This had better be fucking good," Avon grumbled as he knelt, backed up, wriggled around, got a bit inserted, and then turned on the switch. "Oh." It was warm. Blood warm. And it vibrated in a pleasingly random fashion. "Mmm.. yes, not bad." He relaxed and pushed a little further onto it. It began doing things he wasn't sure were entirely possible for a solid piece of perspex. But then, it was alien perspex. "Ah. Right there." He reached for the lube, to stroke some onto his cock, pulling away from his toy as he did.

Panels opened in the deck, releasing metal cables that sprang out waving like tentacles. "What the fuck?!" Avon started to get up, but the tentacles wrapped around him and pulled him suddenly all the way onto the toy. "FUCK!" He squirmed around the sudden pulsing fullness in his arse. The tentacles began oozing a clear fluid that smelled like petroleum jelly mixed with wintergreen. The toy vibrated and seemed to grow knobs that moved up and down and around and... Avon yelped as a tentacle wrapped around his cock and began squeezing- the oozy stuff tingled like burning only without quite hurting. After a moment's pure panic he realized it all was sensation just the good side of too much, and the tentacle wasn't tightening any further.

He moaned and began moving to the limited extent the tentacles allowed. More tentacles caressed his body, playing him like an expert whore, better than anyone he'd ever had. He rocked back and forth, his groans accompanied by slurping and metallic clicks and clinks. Somehow the gun barrel began retracting and expanding, faster and faster, deeper and harder. Avon thought this might kill him, but at the moment he was all for it. He moved even faster. The squeezing on his cock now included his balls. Tiny tentacles even played with his toes, massaged his hands, rubbed at his scalp, and all without interrupting the fucking. Although he didn't believe in it, Avon was in heaven.

He didn't hold out as long as he would like, but then, it had been quite a while. He shouted, clenching everything, and watched his come spurt out between a tiny gap in the coils of the tentacle in a thin stream to spatter the door. _Now, that's a money shot_ he thought inanely. Then the gun rammed into him so hard he screeched in surprise, and hot, well, really, really, warm fluid shot out of his arse and ran down his thighs.

The lights dimmed. The gun stopped vibrating and retracted. The tentacles released Avon, and retreated into the deck which resealed itself. Avon flopped onto his belly.

"Was it good for you too, dear?" Zen asked.

(IMOP 2010)


	59. Bubble, Bubble, Boil and Trouble

" 'I'm interested in your work'?"

Cally looked at Avon with dignity. "I was not responsible for my actions, as you well know."

Avon sneered. "As a saboteur, you are without peer."

Cally narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying?"

"Some missions require subtlety."

Cally opened her eyes wide and lowered her voice to a soft, seductive tone. "Avon, please." She put her hand against his chest.

Avon swallowed. "Yes, Cally?"

Cally grabbed his testicles and squeezed before releasing him to crumple on the deck. "Don't have any illusions about my efficiency."

Avon moaned. "I think... you burst my bubble."

(IMOP 2010)


	60. Pretty Gross Porn

When Avon was told that Blake had survived, Vila had a moment of hope. It was cruelly dashed when the rebels dragged all the surviving member's of Avon's crew in front of Blake's bed and asked what should be done with them.

Blake gazed at them coolly. "Execute the lot of them. Find the nearest wall and shoot them."

"That's not Blake," Vila screamed, while they were dragging him off. "He's an alien shape-changer, or he's mind-wiped, or he's an android, or a Federation double, or..." One of the guards whacked Vila over the head and he went silent.

Avon merely smiled sardonically. Blake held up his hand. "Wait a moment. The one in black leather might be useful. Blind him, and chain him to my bed." Blake rubbed at his crotch. "Ever since I got spaceAIDS I've had to practise safe sex. I'm tired of it." He opened his trousers. "I wonder how long he'll last."

Avon fainted.

Tarrant looked at Blake's spike-covered organ and turned to the nearest rebel. "Ok, where's that wall?"

 

(Request fic- Angsty PGP in which there is only agony and pain and the ending is even more tragic and miserable than in the series. No relief or happiness whatsoever.)


	61. One Eye

"You're wearing your trousers too tight again, Adolf," Dev complained. "It's bad for your fertility, you know."

Travis rolled his eye and popped open another can of lager. "Put a sock in it, bitch. We are not applying for a breeding license."

Dev limped over to Travis and knelt in front of his Barca-lounger, pulling off Travis's boots in order to massage his feet. "But just think of it! The little rug-rat would have two good eyes and two good legs! Spare parts aren't easy to come by these days."

Travis's eye narrowed in thought. He belched. "Yeh, yer right there. Ok, I'll knock you up." He slugged back the last of the beer and slumped back, unconscious.

Dev stood up, irked. "Useless sodding bastard." He packed up his belongings and went off to live with Travis's identical twin brother. "You've seen one one-eyed prick, you've seen them all," were his last words as he let himself out of the flat.

 

(request fic- Travis/Dev Tarrant curtainfic)


	62. Bang Up Job

Avon was picked up and flung across the room, landing dazed, with his clothes tattered, on a soft and yielding surface. "Oh, my head." He winced and lay flat. "What happened?"

"Defective timer," Dayna said, with a sly grin, as she put away the remote detonator. "Now, about that headache."

(prompt was: Bad timing)


	63. Presidential Privilege

Avon popped another grape in his mouth and followed it with a cube of blue cheese.

The President of the Federation entered his office and frowned. "You could get your boots off my desk."

Avon grinned and moved his feet just far enough to allow the President to reach his desk. The President sighed, sat and steepled his fingers, looking at Avon in annoyance. "What do you want?"

"Well, now, a pat on the back wouldn't come amiss. After all, you could hardly have achieved all this..." Avon's eyes went around the opulence of their surroundings, "without my help and my sacrifice."

The President rolled his eyes. "You needn't be theatrical, Avon. I know all your little tricks. You enjoyed every moment of your mission."

Avon's grin widened.

"Your little sado-masochistic heart gloried in it."

Avon laughed and ran his hand through his hair. "Did I deny it? But you must admit I put your needs before my own. I lost Anna on a spur of the moment impulse, but I gave you Servalan's death long before I was finished playing with her."

The President sighed deeply. "Yes, I know, you would have loved to have shared a dungeon with her, turn and turn about. What will it take to get you out of my office so I can get to work?"

Avon took his feet off the President's desk and stood up. "I want Blake."

"Well, you can't have him. Wasn't watching him recover from your betrayal enough?"

"No." Avon leaned over the desk, hands splayed on top to support his weight. "You only need him for the trial. Fake the execution and give him to me. I can mock up a lovely vid with him utterly disgracing himself, begging for mercy, offering to betray others, oh, anything at all. And then the shots, and the blood..." Avon licked his lips, a faraway look in his eyes.

"Oh, all right. But keep him out of view, will you?" The President began shuffling data-cubes as a sign that the interview was over. "For as long as he lasts."

Avon laughed and reached over to ruffle the President's blond hair. "I'd never embarrass you in public, dear brother."

(request was for an evil!dom!Avon... I got close)


	64. Sex-Cyborgs and the Cyberslut

You can't make a mutoid with those capabilities, the finest surgeons in Space Command argued. After the first two were reassigned to the clinic for radioactive slaves on Ursa Major, the remaining surgeons found a way.

People may have thought that Commissioner Sleer's pair of mutoid bodyguards looked familiar, but after her success on Gauda Prime, no one was going to mention a minor peccadillo like unauthorized staffing.

And since her quarters were soundproofed, no one ever noticed any _odd_ noises coming from them in the off-watch. Life was so much safer when you didn't notice things around the Commisioner.


	65. Prison Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gan and Avon in prison.

Avon tilts his head. "I have a bar of Lindor chocolate. With nuts."

Gan considers. "Peanuts?"

Avon shakes his head. "Macadamia."

Gan nods and holds out his hand for the chocolate. "That's good enough for arse."

Avon unzips. Gan holds up his hand. "You're too large to go first and dry."

Avon scowls. "It's first or not at all."

Gan sighs. "Alphas." He looks Avon over with an appraising eye. "All right, I tell you what. You let me have your arse, too, and I'll let you use my hand creme."

Avon gazes at Gan's crotch. His face is blank for a long moment. Then he smiles brilliantly. "Deal."


	66. Seducing Avon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in 2005 I ran a [ Virtual B7 convention on LJ. ](http://b7-virtual-con.livejournal.com/) (It's closed to new comments now, because the spammers were flooding it).
> 
> One of the threads was for Seducing Avon (he's the Little Black Dress of B7, goes with anyone). Requests for pairings were turned into fic.

**Tending More than Bar**

Chenie knew Krantor was up to something when his bully-boy stopped by her bar, so she decided to return the favor by visiting his establishment. She didn't want to be recognized, so she rummaged through her son's clothes-press looking for the costumes he used to wear during Mardi Gras. She found a black robe and a shiny black helmet with a voice-distorter and put them on.

Five minutes in the Big Wheel, and Chenie relaxed. Krantor wasn't after any of her little schemes. Well, as long as she was here, and she'd got her adrenaline up, perhaps she could get her 'itch scratched'. 

Oh, there was a pretty man, sitting brooding over an ice cream. Chenie sidled up to him. "Give in to the Dark Side." 

"Ah. Not tonight, thank you. I generally prefer women."

Chenie giggled and turned off her false asthmatically wheezing, man's voice. "I'm all woman under here, honeybunch." She looked at the ice cream and his pouty mouth and made a quick bartender's psychological assessment. "I think you need a mother's stern hand. I'm very good at spankings. I even have a school-paddle."

Avon looked the darkly robed figure up and down once, and then nodded, rising to his feet to follow her. Vila could look after himself. 

 

**Palindrome Pal in Dome**

 

Nova peered at the security monitor just before the entrance to the cell block, trying to see which was his cell. Best to get to it quickly, and wait until he could think of a way of... well, saving his arse. He'd heard all the prison stories and he knew he was pretty-- his boyfriend had told him that often enough... well, before the little bitch turned him in for printing up pamphlets with that truly delicious cartoon he'd done of Servalan sucking up to the council... thinking back, he really ought to have left off Old Star-killer's twin, Egrorian, bunging her up the arse. After all, Ego wasn't even on the council.

The door slid open, and Nova rushed in with the crowd. He couldn't see the nameplates for the bodies, but he counted and reached the cell he'd seen marked NOVA. Something wasn't quite right about his name, but it didn't come to him immediately.

"This is an odd definition of 'Solitary Confinement'."

Nova whirled around, shocked by the Alpha tones as well as the fact that someone was already in his cell. "But... but..." 

And the cell door clanged shut along with all the others. In less than two seconds, Nova realized that his reluctant cellmate was absolutely bloody, drop-dead, gorgeous as well as bent as a transport accident victim, and as proud as the President. "My heart!" Nova clutched at his chest and pulled one of his more realistic faints, carefully puckering up his lips into just the right pout.

The man laughed. "You can do better than that."

Nova grinned up at him from the floor. "My name's Rik Nova."

"Avon," the man replied. "The same as on the door."

Nova blinked. "But I saw my name on... ohh!" He smacked his forehead with his hand. "The security monitor was picking up from the wide-angle mirror! No wonder the 'N' looked funny!" He smiled at Avon. "But as long as I'm here..."

Avon tilted his head and grinned.

 

**The Rewards of Duty**

 

At first Section Leader Forress thought slapping the Perimeter seal control had sealed his own doom, but then the rebels were brought in, and when one of them confessed that Chesku's wife was their co-leader... well... Servalan herself said he'd done well and offered him a 'special' reward, above and beyond the pay rise that went with his promotion.

The look on Forress face must have told her what a misjudgment she'd made. For a moment he cringed from the fury on her face, but then her features smoothed over.

When they led him into the basement, ice-cold sweat was pouring down his back, for fear Servalan was having her revenge for him refusing her. He halted, bemused, by the sight of the prettiest arse he'd ever seen. "For me?" 

"Well, we couldn't find Shrinker anywhere." Servalan patted the prisoner who was chained against the wall. "Have fun, Avon."


End file.
